7/ 


/ 


THE    COMEDY   OF  HUMAN  LIFE 
By   H.  DE   BALZAC 


SCENES  FROM   PROVINCIAL  LIFE 


THE   GALLERY   OF   ANTIQUITIES 
AN   OLD   MAID 


BALZAC'S     NOVELS. 

Translated  by  Miss  K.  P.  Wormeley. 


Already  Published: 
PERE     GORIOT. 
DUCHESSE     DE     LANGEAIS. 
RISE  AND  FALL  OF  CESAR  BIROTTEAU. 
EUGENIE     GRANDET. 
COUSIN     PONS. 
THE     COUNTRY     DOCTOR. 
THE     TWO     BROTHERS. 

THE  ALKAHEST  (La  Recherche  deTAbsolu). 
MODESTE     MIGNON. 

THE   MAGIC    SKIN  (La  Peau  de  Chagrin). 
COUSIN     BETTE. 
LOUIS     LAMBERT. 
BUREAUCRACY  (Les  Employe's). 
SERAPHITA. 

SONS    OF    THE    SOIL   (Les  Paysans). 
FAME    AND     SORROW    (Chat-qui-pelote). 
THE    LILY    OF    THE    VALLEY. 
URSULA. 

AN   HISTORICAL    MYSTERY. 
ALBERT     SAVARUS. 
BALZAC  :    A   MEMOIR. 
PIERRETTE. 
THE    CHOUANS. 
LOST    ILLUSIONS. 
A  GREAT   MAN   OF    THE    PROVINCES  IN 

PARIS. 
THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF   CONSOLATION. 
THE    VILLAGE    RECTOR. 
MEMOIRS    OF    TWO     YOUNG    MARRIED 

WOMEN. 
CATHERINE    DE'    MEDICI. 
LUCIEN   DE    RUBEMPRE. 

FERRAGUS,  CHIEF  OF  THE  DEVORANTS. 
A    START    IN    LIFE. 
THE    MARRIAGE    CONTRACT. 
BEATRIX. 

DAUGHTER   OF   EVE. 
THE    GALLERY    OF   ANTIQUITIES. 

♦ 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Boston. 


t     » 


HON ORE    DE    BALZAC; :: 


TRANSLATED     BY 

KATHARINE    PRESCOTT    WORMELEY 


THE 


Gallery  of  Antiquities 


ROBERTS     BROTHERS 


3     SOMERSET     STREET 


BOSTON 
1896 


»cc  c  e r   e 

c    e  '      '  a      c  ( 

1  ,    f  C    °  C      C       o 

c    c     CC  , 


C/rfrn 


GIFT  OF 


Copyright,  1896, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


^4//  rights  reserved. 


JSmbersitg  flress : 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


To  Monsieur  le  Baron  de  Hammer-Purgstall,  Aulic 
Councillor,  and  Author  of  the  "History  op  the 
Ottoman    Empire." 

Dear  Baron,  —  You  have  been  so  warmly  interested  in 
my  long  and  vast  history  of  French  manners  and  morals  in 
the  nineteenth  century,  and  you  have  given  such  encourage- 
ment to  my  work,  that  I  feel  you  have  granted  me  the  right 
to  put  your  name  on  one  of  its  fragments.  Are  you  not  one 
of  the  most  earnest  representatives  of  studious  and  con- 
scientious Germany  ?  Your  approbation  will  surely  command 
that  of  others,  and  protect  my  enterprise.  I  am  proud  to 
have  obtained  it ;  and  I  endeavor  to  deserve  it  by  continu- 
ing my  work  with  the  same  perseverance  which  has  char- 
acterized your  studies  and  your  researches  into  documents, 
without  which  the  literary  world  would  never  have  obtained 
the  monumental  work  you  have  bestowed  upon  it.  Your 
sympathy  for  my  labors  has  often  sustained  my  ardor 
during  those  long  nights  spent  on  the  details  of  our  modern 
society ;  it  will  please  you  to  know  this,  you  whose  simple- 
hearted  kindness  can  be  compared  only  to  that  of  our  La 
Fontaine. 

I  wish,  dear  baron,  that  this  mark  of  my  reverence  for 
you  and  for  your  work  might  reach  you  at  Dobling,  and 
remind  both  you  and  yours  of  your  most  sincere  admirer 
and  friend, 

De  Balzac. 


contents. 


THE  GALLERY  OF   ANTIQUITIES. 

PAGE 

I.     Two  Salons 1 

II.     A  Bad  Education 23 

III.  Preparations  for  a  Journey  to  Court    .  39 

IV.  Victurnien's  De'but 57 

V.     The  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse      ...  71 

VI.     Forewarnings 88 

VII.     A  Crime 98 

VIII.     Chesnel  to  the  Rescue 114 

IX.     A  Provincial  Court 136 

X.     The  Examining-Judge 150 

XL     A  Judicial  Battle 165 

AN    OLD    MAID. 

I.     One  of  many  Chevaliers  de  Valois    .     .  187 

II.     Susannah  and  the  Elders 201 

III.     Athanase 225 

TV.     Mademoiselle  Cormon      .     , 238 


viii  Contents. 

PAGE 

V.     An  Old  Maid's  Household 266 

VI.     Final   Disappointment   and   its   First  Re- 
sult     302 

VII.     Other  Results 333 


THE 

GALLERY   OF   ANTIQUITIES, 


i. 

TWO    SALONS. 


In  one  of  the  least  important  prefectures  of  France, 
in  the  middle  of  a  town,  at  the  corner  of  a  street, 
stands  a  house ;  but  the  names  of  that  town  and  street 
must  be  withheld  from  the  reader,  who  will,  no  doubt, 
in  the  end  appreciate  the  motives  of  this  wise  reserve 
which  propriety  demands.  A  writer  lays  his  finger  on 
many  a  sore  in  becoming  the  annalist  of  his  era. 

The  house  was  called  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon,  but 
the  name  d'Esgrignon  must  be  regarded  as  an  alias, 
with  no  more  reality  than  the  Belval,  Floricour,  and 
Derville  of  comedy,  or  the  Adalbert  and  Monbreuse 
of  romance.  The  names  of  the  principal  characters  in 
this  Scene  are  also  chano-ed.  In  short,  the  author  has 
tried  to  produce  contradictions  and  anachronisms  in 
order  to  conceal  the  actual  truth  of  the  tale  ;  but,  do 
what  he  will,  that  truth  crops  up  continually,  like  a 
vine  not  wholly  uprooted  which  sends  out  vigorous 
shoots  in  the  midst  of  the  ploughed  vineyard. 

The  hotel  d'Esgrignon  was  the  house  in  which  lived 
an  old  noble  named  Charles-Marie- Victor-Ange  Carol, 
Marquis   d'Esgrignon,  or  des  Grignons,  according    to 

1 


2  '"lie    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

old  tit».e-d.e£ds.  :  -The  commercial  and  bourgeois  society 
of  the  town  had  satirically  called  the  house  a  hotel 
(that  is,  a  mansion),  and  within  the  last  twenty  years 
most  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  town  had  applied  the 
term  "hotel  d'Esgrignon"  in  all  seriousness  to  the 
dwelling  of  the  marquis. 

The  name  of  Carol  (the  brothers  Thierry  would  have 
spelled  it  Karawl)  was  the  glorious  name  of  one  of  those 
powerful  leaders  who  came  down  in  former  times  from 
the  North  to  conquer  and  feudalize  the  Gauls.     Never 
did  a  Carol  bend  his  head ;  no,  not  before  Commons, 
Kings,  the  Church,  or  Finance.     Appointed  in  former 
days  to  defend  one  of  the  military  frontiers  of  France 
(une  Marche),  their  title  of   marquis  meant  an  actual 
duty,  an  honor,  and  not  the  counterfeit  of  a  supposed 
obligation.     The  fief  of  d'Esgrignon  had  always  been 
theirs.     True    provincial    nobility ;     ignored    for    two 
hundred    years    at    court,  but    pure    of    all   alloy ;    all 
powerful  in  the  States-General,  respected  by  the  people 
of  their  region  superstitiously,  as  the  good  virgin  who 
cures  the  toothache  is  respected,  —  this  ancient  family 
was  still  preserved  in  the  depths  of  its  province  as  the 
blackened  piles  of  some  old   Roman   bridge    are  pre- 
served beneath  the  current  of   a  river.     For  thirteen 
hundred  years  the  daughters  had  been  married  without 
dowries,  or    placed    in    convents.     The    younger  sons 
had  accepted  their  maternal  inheritances,  and  become 
soldiers  or   bishops,   or  had    married    wives   at  court. 
One  cadet  of  the  house  of  Eso'rignon  was  an  admiral, 
and  was    made    duke    and    peer,  but  he  died  without 
posterity.     Never  would  a    Marquis  d'Esgrignon,   the 
head  of  the  elder  branch,  consent  to  accept  the  title 
of  duke. 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  3 

"I  hold  the  Marquisate  of  Esgrignon  on  the  same 
condition  that  the  king  holds  the  kingdom  of  France," 
said  one  of  them  to  the  Connetable  de  Lnynes,  who  to 
his  eyes  was  a  very  small  personage  indeed. 

Yon  may  rely  upon  it,  therefore,  that  during  "the 
troubles"  many  a  d'Esgrignon  lost  his  head.  The 
stanch  blood  held  itself  high  and  pure  till  1789. 
The  then  Marquis  d'Esgrignon  did  not  emigrate :  it 
was  his  duty  to  defend  his  "  Marche  ;  "  the  respect  he 
inspired  in  the  people  of  his  region  saved  his  head 
from  the  scaffold,  but  the  hatred  of  the  real  sans- 
culottes was  bitter  enough  to  have  him  treated  as  an 
emigre  during  the  time  he  was  obliged  to  hide  in  France 
(which  he  never  quitted)  from  the  storm.  In  the 
name  of  the  sovereign  people  the  lands  of  d'Esgrignon 
were  declared  confiscated  and  were  "  nationally  sold," 
in  spite  of  the  personal  appeals  of  the  marquis,  then 
forty  }^ears  of  age.  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon,  his 
sister,  being  still  a  minor,  was  able  to  save  a  few 
portions  of  the  fief  by  the  help  of  a  young  bailiff  of  the 
family,  who  asked  for  a  division  of  the  property  and 
the  assignment  to  his  client  of  her  share  in  the  pat- 
rimony. Tn  consequence  of  this  appeal,  the  chateau 
and  a  few  farms  were  reserved  to  her  from  the  general 
sale  made  by  the  Republic.  The  faithful  bailiff, 
Chesnel,  was  forced  to  buy  in  his  own  name,  with  the 
ready  money  brought  to  him  by  the  marquis,  certain 
parts  of  the  domain  to  which  his  master  clung  espe- 
cially, such  as  the  church,  the  parsonage,  and  the 
gardens  of  the  chateau. 

The  slow  yet  rapid  years  of  the  Terror  having 
passed,  the  Marquis  d'Esgrignon,  whose  character  im- 


4  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

posed  the  deepest  respect  on  all  the  inhabitants  of  his 
neighborhood,  was  anxious  to  return  to  the  chateau 
with  his  sister,  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon,  in  order  to 
cultivate  the  land  which  his  former  bailiff,  Chesnel, 
now  a  notary,  had  saved  for  him.  But  alas !  to  restore 
the  pillaged  and  barren  chateau  wTas  too  vast  and  too 
costly  a  work  for  an  owner  whose  rentals  had  been 
suppressed,  whose  forests  had  been  razed,  and  who 
at  that  time  could  only  derive,  at  most,  nine  thousand 
francs  a  year  from  the  remnants  of  his  old  domain. 

When,  in  the  month  of  May,  1800,  the  notary  brought 
his  former  master  to  the  old  feudal  chateau,  he  could  not 
restrain  his  emotion  as  he  watched  the  marquis  stand- 
ing, motionless,  in  the  middle  of  the  courtyard,  gazing 
at  the  filled-in  moat  and  the  ancient  towers  now  levelled 
to  the  roof.  The  old  Frank  contemplated  silently  the 
heaven  above  him,  and  then  the  places  where  his  noble 
vanes  had  once  adorned  the  gothic  towers,  as  if  to  ask 
of  God  the  reason  for  this  social  destruction.  Chesnel 
alone  could  understand  the  bitter  grief  of  his  former 
master,  now  called  citizen  Carol.  The  noble  d'Esgri- 
gnon was  long  silent ;  he  breathed-in  the  patrimonial 
odors  of  the  atmosphere  about  him,  and  uttered  with 
a  sigh  the  saddest  of  interjections. 

"Chesnel,"  he  said,  "we  will  return  here  later, 
when  the  troubles  are  over ;  but  until  the  treaty  of 
pacification  is  signed,  I  cannot  live  here,  for  they  would 
forbid  me  to  bear  arms." 

He  pointed  to  the  chateau,  turned,  remounted  his 
horse,  and  accompanied  his  sister,  who  had  come  with 
him  in  a  venerable  wicker  carriole  belonging:  to  the 
notary.     In  the  town  itself,  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon  no 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  5 

longer  existed.  That  noble  structure  had  been  cle- 
molished,  and  on  its  site  were  two  manufactories. 
Maitre  Chesnel  employed  the  last  sack  of  the  marquis's 
louis  in  buying  an  old  house  with  a  gable,  a  vane, 
a  tower,  and  a  dormer  window,  where  formerly  the  Sei- 
gneurial  bailiwick  was  established,  and  later  the  Court 
of  Justice ;  the  property  belonging  at  that  time  to  the 
Marquis  d'Esgrignon.  For  five  hundred  louis  the  Na- 
tional Domain  ceded  back  the  old  edifice  to  its  legiti- 
mate  owner.  From  that  day  forth  it  was  called,  partly 
in  jest,  partly  in  earnest,  the  "  hotel  d'Esgrignon." 

In  1800,  several  emigres  returned  to  France,  and  the 
erasure  of  their  names  from  the  fatal  lists  was  ob- 
tained without  much  difficulty.  Among  the  nobles 
who  first  returned  to  the  town  were  the  Baron  de 
Nouastre  and  his  daughter;  they  were  ruined.  Mon- 
sieur d'Esgrignon  generously  offered  them  a  home, 
where  the  baron  died  two  months  later,  worn  out  with 
grief  and  anxiety.  Mademoiselle  de  Nouastre  was 
twenty-two  }7ears  old,  and  the  purest  blood  of  France 
flowed  in  her  veins.  Monsieur  d'Esgrignon  married 
her  to  continue  his  house ;  but  she  died  in  childbirth, 
killed  by  the  cleverness  of  a  doctor,  leaving  happily 
one  son.  The  poor  old  man  (though  the  marquis  was 
only  fifty-three  years  of  age,  adversity  and  the  bitter 
sorrows  of  his  life  made  him  seem  a  dozen  years 
older),  lost  the  joy  of  his  declining  days, — his  wife, 
one  of  the  sweetest  of  human  beings,  a  noble  woman, 
in  whom  were  revived  the  graces,  now  only  to  be  ima- 
gined, of  the  feminine  figures  of  the  sixteenth  century. 
It  was  one  of  those  terrible  blows  which  echo  through 
every  moment  of  a  man's  succeeding  life. 


6  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

After  standing  for  some  moments  before  the  bed, 
he  kissed  the  forehead  of  his  wife  as  she  lay  there  like 
a  saint,  with  her  hands  folded.  Then  he  drew  out  his 
watch,  broke  the  mainspring,  and  walked  to  the  fire- 
place, where  he  hung  it  up.  The  hands  marked  eleven 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

"  My  sister,  let  us  pray  God  that  this  hour  be  not 
forever  fatal  to  our  house.  My  uncle,  the  arch- 
bishop, was  murdered  at  this  hour ;  at  this  hour  my 
father  died." 

He  knelt  down  beside  the  bed  and  laid  his  head  upon 
it.  His  sister  did  the  same.  Then,  after  a  minute, 
both  rose.  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon  burst  into  tears, 
but  the  old  marquis  looked  at  the  child,  the  room,  and 
his  dead  wife  with  dry  eyes.  To  bis  Frankish  stoicism 
he  added  the  intrepid  courage  of  a  Christian. 

This  happened  in  the  second  year  of  our  present 
century.  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon  was  twenty-seven 
years  old.  She  was  beautiful.  A  parvenu  purveyor  to 
the  armies  of  the  Republic,  born  in  the  neighborhood 
and  originally  worth  three  thousand  francs  a  year,  per- 
suaded Maitre  Chesnel  after  long  resistance  to  speak  on 
his  behalf  of  a  marriage  with  Mademoiselle  d'Essrignon. 
The  brother  and  sister  were  equally  angry  at  such 
audacity,  and  Chesnel  was  in  despair  at  having  yielded 
to  the  entreaties  of  the  Sieur  du  Croisier.  From  that 
day  he  missed  in  the  manners  and  words  of  the  Mar- 
quis d'Esgrignon  that  caressing  kindliness  which  might 
have  passed  for  friendship.  The  marquis  thenceforth 
felt  only  gratitude  toward  him. 

This  noble  and  genuine  gratitude  was  a  source  of 
perpetual  pain  to  the  notary.    There  are  sublime  hearts 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  7 

in  this  world  to  whom  gratitude  seems  to  be  a  burden, 
a  payment ;  they  prefer  the  sweet  equality  of  feel- 
ing given  by  the  natural  and  voluntary  fusion  of  souls. 
Maitre  Chesnel  had  tasted  the  happiness  of  that  honor- 
able and  all-confiding  friendship;  the  marquis  had 
raised  him  to  his  own  plane.  To  the  old  noble  the 
worthy  notary  was  less  than  a  child  and  more  than  a 
servant;  he  was  a  voluntary  liege-man,  a  serf  attached 
by  every  tie  of  the  heart  to  his  suzerain.  No  reckon- 
ing of  regard  was  ever  made  with  him ;  the  ac- 
count was  balanced  by  the  continual  exchange  of  a 
true  affection.  In  the  eyes  of  the  marquis,  Chesnel 
in  his  official  capacity  signified  nothing;  he  was  always 
his  servitor  disguised  as  a  notary.  In  Chesnel's  eyes 
the  marquis  belonged  to  a  race  divine.  He  believed  in 
nobles ;  he  remembered  that  his  father  had  opened 
the  doors  of  salons  and  said,  "Monsieur  is  served." 
Chesnel's  devotion  to  this  noble  ruined  house  was  less 
a  faith  than  an  egotism  ;  he  considered  himself  as  part 
of  the  family.  His  grief,  therefore,  at  having  dis- 
pleased the  marquis  was  profound.  When  he  ven- 
tured to  speak  of  his  error,  the  old  noble  replied  in  a 
grave  tone  of  voice  :  — 

"Chesnel,  you  would  never  have  allowed  yourself 
to  make  so  insulting  a  proposition  before  the  troubles. 
What,  then,  are  these  new  doctrines,  that  they  should 
have  spoiled  even  you  ?  " 

Maitre  Chesnel  possessed  the  confidence  of  the  whole 
town ;  he  was  deeply  respected.  His  high  honor  and 
large  fortune  gave  him  importance ;  but  from  this 
time  forth  he  felt  a  decided  aversion  for  the  Sieur  du 
Croisier.     Though  the  notary   was  not   rancorous,  he 


8  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

insensibly  induced  a  goodly  number  of  families  to  share 
bis  dislike.  Du  Croisier,  a  man  of  hatreds,  capable  of 
brooding  over  a  vengeance  for  twenty  years,  felt  for 
the  notary  and  the  d'Esgrignon  family  one  of  those 
silent,  pregnant  hatreds  which  we  meet  with  in  the 
provinces.  This  refusal  injured  him  in  the  eyes  of  the 
malicious  provincials  among  whom  he  had  come  to 
spend  his  days,  intending  to  rule  them.  It  was  so 
real  a  catastrophe  that  its  effects  were  soon  felt.  Du 
Croisier  was  also  refused  by  a  certain  old  maid  to 
whom  he  addressed  himself  as  a  pis-aller.  Thus  the 
ambitious  plans  he  had  formed  failed  at  their  outset 
through  the  refusal  of  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon,  whose 
alliance  would  have  opened  to  him  the  salons  of  the 
faubourg  Saint-Germain ;  next,  the  second  refusal  so 
discredited  him  with  the  second  society  of  the  town 
that  he  had  difficulty  in  maintaining  himself  even 
there. 

In  1805,  Monsieur  de  la  Roche-Guyon,  the  eldest 
son  of  one  of  the  oldest  families  of  the  neighborhood, 
which  was  former^  allied  with  that  of  the  d'Esgrignons, 
made  a  formal  demand,  through  Maitre  Chesnel,  for 
the  hand  of  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon.  Mademoiselle 
Marie-Armande-Claire  d'Esgrignon  refused  even  to 
listen  to  the  notary. 

"  You  ought  to  be  aware  that  I  am  a  mother,  my 
dear  Chesnel,"  she  said,  as  she  rose  to  lay  her  nephew, 
a  beautiful  boy  of  three  years  of  age,  in  his  cradle. 

The  old  marquis  rose  to  meet  her  as  she  returned, 
and  kissed  her  hand  respectfully.  Then,  seating  himself 
again  in  his  armchair,  he  found  voice  to  say, — 

"  You  are  a  d'Esgrignon,  my  sister." 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  9 

The  noble  woman  trembled  and  wept.  The  father 
of  the  marquis  in  his  old  age  had  married  the  grand- 
daughter of  a  purveyor,  ennobled  under  Louis  XIV. 
This  marriage  was  considered  a  horrible  mesalliance 
by  the  family,  but  of  less  importance  because  a  daugh- 
ter only  was  the  result.  Armande  knew  this.  Though 
her  brother  was  kindness  itself  to  her,  he  always  re- 
garded her  as  in  some  sense  an  alien ;  but  this  speech 
legitimatized  her.  Her  answer  to  this  proposal  of  the 
Roche-Guyons  was  a  noble  crown  to  the  noble  conduct 
she  had  followed  for  the  last  eleven  years  ;  from  the 
day  of  her  majority  every  action  of  her  life  was  the 
outcome  of  the  purest  devotion ;  her  feeling  for  her 
brother  was  worship. 

"  I  shall  die  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon,"  she  said  to 
the  notary  simply. 

"For  you  there  can  be  no  nobler  title,"  replied 
Chesnel,  thinking  that  he  paid  her  a  compliment. 

The  poor  girl  colored. 

"  You  are  talking  nonsense,  Chesnel,"  said  the  old 
marquis,  partly  flattered  by  his  old  servant's  speech 
and  grieved  at  the  pain  it  caused  his  sister.  "  A 
d'Esgrignon  can  marry  a  Montmorency ;  our  blood  is 
not  as  mixed  as  theirs.  The  d'Esgrignons  bear  or, 
two  bendlets  gules,  and  for  nine  hundred  years  no 
change  has  been  made  in  our  arms  ;  they  are  what  they 
have  been  from  the  first.  Hence  our  device,  Cil  est 
nostre,  which  was  taken  at  the  tourney  of  Philip-Augus- 
tus, together  with  the  armed  knight  or  to  right,  and 
the  lion  gules  to  left,  for  supporters." 

Emile  Blondet,  to  whom  the  present  writer  and  con- 
temporaneous literature  are,  among  other  things,  in- 
debted for  this  history,  says,  in  writing  of  it :  — 


10  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"  I  cannot  remember  that  any  woman  ever  affected 
my  imagination  like  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon.    I  was, 
at  the  time  I  first  knew  her,  very  young,  a  mere  child, 
and  perhaps  the  image  she  has  left  in  my  memory  owes 
something  of  its  vivid  tints  to  our  childish  inclination 
for  all  things   marvellous.  —  When  I  saw   her   in  the 
distance,  coming  along  the  Cours,  where  I  was  playing 
with  other  children,  leading  Victurnien,  her  nephew,  by 
the  hand,  I  felt  an  emotion  something  like  that  pro- 
duced by  galvanism  on  dead  bodies.     Young  as  I  was, 
I  felt  myself  endowed  with  a  new  life.     Mademoiselle's 
hair  was  of  a  ruddy  blond  tint,  her  cheeks  were  cov- 
ered with  the  finest  down,  with  silvery  reflections  which 
I  loved  to  see  when  the  outline  of  her  face  was  defined 
against  the  light ;  and  I  let  myself  go  to  the  fascina- 
tions of  those  dreamy  emerald  eyes,  which  seemed  to 
cast  fire  when  they  rested  on  me.     Sometimes  I  pre- 
tended to  roll  on  the  ground  before  her  in  play,  but  it 
was  really  to  get  nearer  to  her  dainty  feet  and  admire 
them.     The  soft  whiteness  of  her  skin,  the  delicacv  of 
her  features,  the  purity  of  the  lines  of  her  forehead, 
the  elegance  of  her  slender  figure,  took  possession  of 
me ;   although  I  did   not  know  it  was  the  elegance  of 
her  figure,  the  beauty  of  her  forehead,  or  the  perfect 
oval  of  her  face,  that  affected  me.     I  admired  her  as  a 
child  of  my  age  prays,  — without  knowing  why.     When 
my  fixed  gaze  attracted  her  notice  she  would  say  in 
her   melodious  voice,  which  seemed   to  me  to  have  a 
volume  no  other  voice  possessed,  'What  are  3^011  doing 
there,  little  one?    Why  do  you  look  at  me  in  that  way  ?  ' 
Then  I  would  creep  up,  twisting  myself  and  biting  my 
nails,  to   answer,  blushing,    '  I    don't   know.'     If,    by 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  11 

chance,  she  laid  her  white  hand  upon  my  head  and 
asked  how  old  I  was,  I  would  run  away  to  a  distance, 
and  cry  out,  '  Eleven  ! ' 

"When  I  read  in  the  '  Arabian  Nights  '  of  a  princess 
or  fairy,  I  gave  her  the  features  and  bearing  of  Made- 
moiselle d'Esgrignon.  When  my  drawing-master  made 
me  copy  heads  from  the  antique,  I  noticed  that  the 
hair  on  those  heads  was  twisted  up  like  that  of 
Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon.  Later,  when  these  childish 
ideas  departed  one  by  one,  Mademoiselle  Armande  — 
for  whom  men  stepped  aside  respectfully  on  the  Cours 
to  let  her  pass,  watching  the  undulations  of  her  long 
brown  dress  until  she  was  out  of  sight  —  Mademoiselle 
Armande  remained  in  my  memory  vaguely  as  a  sort 
of  type.  Her  exquisite  shape,  the  outlines  of  which, 
sometimes  revealed  by  a  gust  of  wind,  I  could  then 
see  in  spite  of  the  amplitude  of  her  gown,  returned 
into  my  dreams  when  I  had  grown  into  manhood. 
Later  still,  when  I  reflected  gravely  over  the  u^steries 
of  human  thought,  I  came  to  believe  that  my  respect 
was  inspired  by  the  sentiments  which  I  felt,  although 
I  did  not  know  they  were  expressed,  in  Mademoiselle 
d'Esgrignon's  face  and  demeanor.  The  adorable  calm- 
ness of  that  head,  inwardly  so  ardent,  the  dignity 
of  her  motions,  the  sacredness  of  duties  fulfilled,  must 
have  touched  and  awed  me.  Children  are  much  more 
open  than  we  believe  to  the  invisible  effects  of  ideas : 
they  never  laugh  at  a  person  who  is  truly  imposing ; 
real  grace  touches  them  ;  beauty  attracts  them  because 
they  are  themselves  beautiful,  and  there  exist  mysterious 
ties  between  the  things  of  a  like  nature.  Mademoiselle 
d'Esgrignon    was    one    of    my  religions.      To-day  my 


12  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

wandering  imagination  can  climb  no  corkscrew  stair- 
case in  some  old  manor  without  a  vision  in  my  mind's 
eye  of  Mademoiselle  Armande  as  the  Genius  of  Feu- 
dality. When  I  read  the  old  chronicles,  she  appears 
to  me  in  the  form  of  many  a  famous  woman,  —  Agnes 
Sorel,  Marie  Touchet,  Gabrielle  d'Estrees, — I  see  her 
clothed  with  all  the  love  that  lay,  lost,  in  her  heart, 
a  love  she  was  never  to  express.  That  celestial  figure, 
seen  through  the  misty  visions  of  childhood,  comes  to 
me  still  amid  the  clouds  of  my  dreams." 

Remember  this  portrait,  faithful  to  the  moral  as  to 
the  physical  being.  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon  is  one 
of  the  most  instructive  figures  of  this  history :  she 
will  show  you  in  what  way  the  purest  virtues,  lacking 
intelligence,  may  be  harmful. 

During  the  years  1804  and  1805,  two-thirds  of  the 
emigrated  families  returned  to  France,  and  nearly  all 
those  belonging  to  the  province  of  the  Marquis  d'Es- 
grignon planted  themselves  once  more  in  the  soil  of 
their  fathers.  There  were,  however,  a  few  defections. 
Some  nobles  took  service  under  Napoleon,  either  in 
the  army  or  at  court ;  others  made  marriages  with  cer- 
tain parvenus.  All  those  who  joined  the  imperial 
movement  recovered  their  fortunes  and  their  forests 
through  the  Emperor's  munificence.  Most  of  them 
remained  in  Paris  ;  but  a  few,  some  eight  or  ten  noble 
families  in  all,  remained  faithful  to  the  proscribed 
regime  and  to  their  old  ideas  of  the  fallen  monarchy; 
among  them,  the  Roche-Guyons,  the  Nouastres,  the 
Verneuils,  the  Casterans,  the  Troisvilles, —  some  poor, 
some  rich.     But  the  possession  of  more  or  less  money 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  13 

counted  for  nothing ;  the  antiquity,  the  preservation 
of  the  race  of  nobles,  was  to  them  all ;  precisely  as  an 
antiquary  cares  nothing  for  the  weight  of  a  medal  in 
comparison  with  the  clearness  of  the  device  and  the 
inscription,   and  the  antiquity  of  the  coin. 

These  families  accepted  as  their  leader  the  Marquis 
d'Esgrignon ;  his  house  became  their  centre,  their 
trysting-place.  There  the  Emperor  was  never  men- 
tioned except  as  Monsieur  de  Buonaparte ;  there  the 
King  was  Louis  XVIII. ,  then  at  Mittau;  there  the 
department  was  still  the  province,  and  the  prefecture 
the  intendanc}T.  The  admirable  conduct,  the  noble  loy- 
alty, the  intrepid  courage  of  the  Marquis  d'P^sgrignon, 
won  him  the  homage  of  all  these  families,  just  as 
his  misfortunes,  his  constancy,  and  his  unfaltering 
attachment  to  his  opinions  had  long  won  him  the 
universal  respect  of  his  own  town.  This  noble  ruin 
had  all  the  majesty  of  a  great  thing  destroyed.  His 
chivalrous  delicacy  was  so  well  known  that  in  several 
instances  he  was  chosen  by  contending  parties  as  sole 
arbiter.  All  the  well-educated  partisans  of  the  impe- 
rial system,  and  even  its  officers,  showed  as  much 
consideration  for  his  prejudices  as  respect  for  his 
personal  presence. 

But  a  large  portion  of  the  new  society,  men  who 
were  destined  under  the  Restoration  to  be  called 
"liberals,"  at  the  head  of  whom  was  du  Croisier, 
sneered  at  this  aristocratic  oasis,  where  no  one  was 
admitted  unless  he  were  noble  and  irreproachable. 
The  animosity  felt  in  this  circle  was  all  the  stronger 
because  many  worthy  persons,  honest  country  squires 
and  several   members  of  the  administration,  persisted 


14  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

in  considering  the  salon  of  the  Marquis  d'Esgrignon 
as  the  only  one  in  which  there  was  good  society.  The 
prefect,  the  Emperor's  chamberlain,  made  many  ad- 
vances to  be  received  there ;  lie  even  sent  his  wife, 
who  was  a  Grandlien,  without  him.  The  excluded 
clique  revenged  themselves  on  this  faubourg  Saint- 
Germain  of  the  provinces  by  giving  the  nickname  of 
"  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities"  to  the  salon  of  the 
Marquis  d'Esgrignon,  whom  they  called  Monsieur 
Carol ;  a  name  to  which  the  collector  of  taxes  addressed 
his  tax-bill,  adding  in  a  parenthesis  {ci-devant  des  Gri- 
gnons).  This  old  spelling  of  the  name  was  intended  as 
a  petty  annoyance,  inasmuch  as  the  later  spelling 
d'Esgrignon  had  long  prevailed. 

0 

"As  for  me,"  says  Emile  Blondet,  to  whom  we 
again  refer,  ' '  when  I  look  back  into  my  childish 
memories  I  must  admit  that  the  name  '  Gallery  of 
Antiquities '  used  to  make  me  laugh  in  spite  of  my 
respect,  may  I  not  say  my  love,  for  Mademoiselle 
Armande. 

"  The  hotel  d'Esgrignon  stood  at  the  corner  of  two 
streets,  so  that  the  salon  had  two  windows  on  each  of 
these  streets,  which  were  the  most  frequented  in  the 
town.  The  Place  du  Marche  wras  only  a  few  hundred 
feet  from  the  house.  This  salon  was  therefore  like  a 
glass  case,  and  no  one  came  or  went  about  the  town 
without  casting  an  eye  upon  it.  The  room  always 
seemed  to  me,  then  a  little  rascal  twelve  years  old, 
to  be  a  rare  curiosity,  such  as  we  find  later,  when  we 
reflect  about  it,  on  the  confines  of  the  real  and  the 
fanciful,    without  being  able   to  decide  whether   they 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  15 

were  more  on  the  one  side  than  on  the  other.  Formerly, 
in  the  clays  when  the  building  was  used  for  the  law 
courts,  the  salon  was  the  court-room,  and  it  was  raised 
above  a  cellar  with  grated  windows,  where  the  criminals 
of  the  province  were  then  confined  ;  now  that  cellar 
served  as  the  d'Esgrignon  kitchen. 

"  I  can't  say  whether  the  magnificent  and  lofty  fireplace 
of  the  Louvre,  so  marvellously  carved,  ever  caused  me 
the  same  awed  amazement  that  I  felt  on  seeing  for  the 
first  time  the  vast  fireplace  of  this  salon,  above  which 
was  an  equestrian  portrait  of  Henri  III.  (under  whom 
the  province,  formerly  a  tributary  duchy,  was  annexed 
to  the  Crown) ;  this  portrait  was  done  in  relief  and 
framed  in  gilding.  The  ceiling  was  of  chestnut  beams 
forming  compartments,  each  of  which  were  decorated 
with  arabesques.  This  beautiful  ceiling  was  once 
gilded  along  the  edges  of  the  beams,  but  the  gilding 
was  now  scarcely  visible.  The  walls,  hung  with  Flem- 
ish tapestries,  represented  the  judgment  of  Solomon  in 
six  pictures,  supported  by  gilt  th}Trses,  round  which 
sported  cupids  and  satyrs  amid  vine-leaves  and  ivy. 
The  marquis  had  had  the  room  parquetted. 

"  Among  the  relics  of  old  chateaux  sold  between 
1793  and  1795,  the  notary  had  picked  up  consoles  of 
the  period  of  Louis  XIV.,  tables,  a  tall  clock,  fire- 
irons,  and  girandoles,  admirably  completing  the  grandi- 
ose salon,  which  was  wholly  out  of  keeping  with  the 
rest  of  the  house. 

'•'  Beneath  that  ancient  ceiling,  the  glory  of  days  now 
dead,  sat  or  moved  about  ten  or  a  dozen  dowagers, 
some  with  shaking  heads,  others  as  withered  and  dark 
as  mummies;  some  stiff  and  erect,  others  bent,  but  all 


16  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

caparisoned  in  gowns  more  or  less  fantastically  in 
opposition  to  the  fashion  ;  powdered  heads  were  there, 
with  heavy  curls,  caps  with  bow-knots,  and  rusty 
laces.  The  most  absurd  of  caricatures,  the  most  seri- 
ous of  paintings,  could  never  convey  the  incoherent 
poesy  of  these  figures,  which  return  into  my  dreams 
and  attitudinize  in  my  memory  whenever  I  meet  with 
some  old  woman  whose  face  and  whose  garments  recall 
their  characteristics.  But,  whether  it  be  that  misfor- 
tunes has  taught  me  the  secrets  of  other  misfortunes, 
whether  I  have  really  come  to  understand  the  emotions 
of  the  human  soul,  especially  the  sorrows  and  regrets 
of  old  age,  true  it  is  that  I  have  never  since  then  seen, 
among  the  dying  or  the  living,  the  haggard  look  of 
those  gray  eyes,  the  awful  vivacity  of  some  black 
ones. 

"No;  neither  Maturin  nor  Hoffmann  —  the  two  most 
terrifying  imaginations  of  our  day  —  could  cause  me 
the  terror  I  used  to  feel  at  the  automatic  movement 
of  those  strait-laced  bodies.  The  rougre  of  actors  has 
never  surprised  me,  for  have  I  not  seen  a  more  invet- 
erate rouge?  —  the  rouge  of  birth,  as  one  of  my  com- 
rades, as  satirical  as  myself,  remarked.  Through 
those  window-panes  I  saw  worn  faces,  furrowed  with 
wrinkles  till  they  looked  like  the  nut-crackers  carved 
in  Germany,  misshapen  figures,  square  and  prominent 
jaws,  enormous  bones,  projecting  hips.  As  these 
women  came  and  went,  they  seemed  to  me  less  un- 
natural than  when  they  sat,  in  mortuary  immobility, 
playing  cards. 

"  The  men  of  that  salon  wore  all  of  the  same  gray  and 
faded  color  as  the  tapestries.    Their  life  seemed  smitten 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  17 

with  indecision  ;  but  their  clothes  were  more  in  con- 
formity with  modern  fashions ;  even  so,  however,  their 
white  hair  and  withered  faces,  their  waxy  skins  and 
blasted  foreheads,  and  the  haggard  pallor  of  their 
eyes  gave  them  a  resemblance  to  the  women  which 
effaced  the  difference  in  their  clothes. 

"  The  certainty  of  finding  these  personages  invariably 
in  the  same  place,  playing  cards  at  tables,  or  seated 
at  the  same  hour  in  the  same  chairs,  gave,  in  my  young 
eyes,  something  theatrical,  pompous,  supernatural  to 
their  appearance.  Never  since  have  I  entered  any  of 
those  famous  museums  in  Paris,  London,  Vienna,  or 
Munich,  where  we  find  preserved  the  splendors  of  past 
centuries,  without  peopling  them  with  the  figures  I 
once  knew  in  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  We  often 
proposed  to  each  other,  little  schoolboys  that  we  were, 
to  climb  up  for  fun,  and  look  at  these  rarities  collected 
in  their  glass  cage.  But  as  soon  as  I  caught  sight  of 
Mademoiselle  Armande,  I  used  to  tremble.  I  admired, 
with  jealous  feelings,  her  beautiful  nephew,  Victurnien, 
in  whom  we  all  recognized  a  superior  being  to  ourselves. 
That  young  fresh  creature  in  the  midst  of  this  ceme- 
tery resurrected  before  its  time  struck  us,  I  know  not 
why,  as  something  strange.  Without,  of  course,  being 
able  to  reason  on  our  feelings,  we  were  conscious  of 
being  small  and  bourgeois  in  presence  of  that  proud 
court." 

The  catastrophes  of  1813  and  1814,  which  brought 
low  Napoleon,  gave  a  fresh  lease  of  life  to  the  Gallery 
of  Antiquities,  and  offered  its  members  a  hope  of  re- 
covering  their  importance.     But  the  events  of  1815,  the 


jg  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

horrors  of  foreign  occupation,  and  then  the  oscillations 
of  the  government,  delayed  until  after  the  fall  of  De- 
cazes  all  fruition  of  the  hopes  of  these  personages  so 
well  portrayed  by  Blondet.  Our  present  history  does 
not  begin,  therefore,  until  the  year  1822. 

In  1822,  in  spite  of  the  benefits  which  the  Restora- 
tion bestowed  on  the  emigres,  the  fortune  of  the  Marquis 
d'EsoTio-non  was  not  increased.  Of  all  the  nobles  in- 
jured  by  the  revolutionary  laws  none  was  more  unfairly 
treated.  The  greater  part  of  his  revenues  consisted, 
before  1789,  of  demesnial  rights  resulting,  as  with 
several  of  the  great  families,  from  the  tenure  of  fiefs 
which  the  seigneurs  endeavored  to  cut  up  into  small 
holdings  to  increase  the  proceeds  of  their  lods  et  ventes, 
that  is,  dues  from  tenants.  The  families  who  were  in 
this  category  were  ruined  be}7ond  all  hope  of  recovery  ; 
the  ordinance  of  Louis  XVIII.  restoring  the  unsold 
lands  to  the  emigres  did  not  help  them,  and,  later,  the 
law  of  indemnity  brought  them  no  relief. 

The  marquis  belonged  to  that  fraction  of  the  royal- 
ist party  which  refused  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
those  whom  he  called,  not  revolutionists,  but  rebels ; 
and  who  were  designated  in  parliamentary  language 
as  liberals  or  constitutionals.  His  set  of  royalists, 
nicknamed  "ultras"  by  the  opposition,  had  for  its 
leaders  and  heroes  the  courageous  orators  of  the  Right, 
who,  from  the  very  first  session  of  the  royal  council, 
protested,  like  Monsieur  de  Polignac,  against  the 
Charter  of  Louis  XVIII. ,  regarding  it  as  a  bad  edict 
compelled  by  the  necessity  of  the  moment,  and  from 
which  royalty  ought  to  retreat. 

The  miracles  of  the  Restoration  of  1814 ;  those  still 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  19 

greater,  of  Napoleon's  return  in  1815 ;  the  amazing 
second  flioht  of  the  house  of  Bourbon,  and  its  immedi- 
ate  return,  —  these  semi-fabulous  phases  of  contempo- 
raneous history  came  upon  the  marquis  at  the  age  of 
sixty-seven.  At  that  age,  the  bravest  characters  of 
our  time,  less  defeated  than  worn  out  by  the  events 
of  the  Revolution  and  the  Empire,  had,  in  the  depths 
of  their  provinces,  converted  their  activity  into  pas- 
sionate and  immutable  convictions ;  they  had,  nearly 
all,  withdrawn  into  the  enervating  and  easy-going  life 
of  country  places.  As  for  the  marquis,  he  asked  him- 
self what  good  a  man  of  seventy  could  do  at  court ; 
what  office  could  he  hold  ;  what  service  could  he  render? 
Thus  the  proud  and  noble  d'Esgrignon  contented  him- 
self with  the  triumph  of  the  monarchy  and  of  religion  ; 
he  continued  to  be  the  leader  of  his  caste  in  his  own 
neighborhood,  enthroned  in  his  salon  well-named  the 
Gallery  of  Antiquities.  Under  the  Restoration,  that 
mildly  sarcastic  nickname  grew  spiteful  on  the  lips  of 
the  bourgeoisie,  when  the  vanquished  of  1793  became 
once  more  the  conquerors. 

But  the  town  in  which  the  d'Esgrignons  lived  was 
not  more  protected  than  other  provincial  towns  from 
hatreds  and  rivalries  of  party  spirit.  Contrary  to 
public  expectation,  du  Croisier  (all  the  names  in  this 
Scene  we  must  remember  are  fictitious)  had  married 
the  very  rich  old  maid  who  had  previously  refused  him, 
and  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  had  for  rival  the 
petted  darling  of  the  aristocracy  of  the  neighborhood,  — 
a  certain  Chevalier  whose  illustrious  name  will  be  suffi- 
ciently concealed  if  we  designate  him,  in  accordance  with 
the  custom  of  the  town,  by  his  title  only  ;  for  he  was 


20  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

there  the  Chevalier  just  as  the  Comte  d'Artois  was 
Monsieur  at  court.  Not  only  did  this  marriage  give 
rise  to  one  of  those  feuds  with  all  weapons  which  pre- 
vail in  the  provinces,  but  it  also  assisted  in  accelerating 
the  separation  between  the  upper  and  the  lower  aris- 
tocracy, between  the  bourgeois  elements  and  the  noble 
elements,  united  for  a  moment  under  the  pressure  of 
the  great  Napoleonic  authority, —  a  sudden  separation 
which  did  great  harm  to  our  country.  In  France,  the 
most  national  thing  of  all  is  —  vanity.  It  was  the 
mass  of  wounded  vanities  which  produced  the  thirst 
for  equality.  Hereafter,  we  may  be  sure,  ardent  in- 
novators will  be  compelled  to  admit  that  equality  is  a 
thing  impossible. 

In  the  war  that  now  ensued,  courteously  conducted 
and  without  gall  by  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  but 
pushed  to  extremes  at  the  hotel  du  Croisier,  even 
to  the  employment  of  the  poisoned  arrows  of  savage 
warfare,  the  advantages  of  mind  and  delicate  satire 
were  all  on  the  side  of  the  nobles ;  and  we  must 
steadily  remember  one  truth :  the  wounds  made  by 
the  tongue  and  the  eye  —  satire  and  disdain  —  are 
incurable. 

The  Chevalier  had  no  sooner  withdrawn  after  his 
matrimonial  defeat  to  the  Sacred  Mount  of  the  aristoc- 
racy, abandoning  the  mixed  companies,  than  he  directed 
his  wit  against  the  salon  du  Croisier ;  he  stirred  the 
embers  of  war  without  suspecting  to  what  lengths  the 
spirit  of  vengeance  would  lead  the  Croisier  salon  against 
the  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  None  but  the  true  and  pure 
entered  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon,  —  loyal  gentlemen  and 
gentlewomen,  all  sure  of  each  other;   they  were  guilty 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  21 

of  no  indiscretions.  Their  talk,  their  ideas,  just  or 
false,  noble  or  ridiculous,  gave  no  opening  for  any 
attack.  The  liberals  were  forced  to  assail  the  political 
actions  of  the  ultra  party  in  default  of  personal  grounds 
on  which  to  ridicule  the  nobles.  But  this  sense  of  in- 
ability increased  a  hundredfold  in  the  du  Croisier 
adherents  a  thirst  for  vengeance. 

In  1822,  du  Croisier  was  at  the  head  of  the  indus- 
trial interests  of  the  department,  just  as  the  Marquis 
d'Esgrignon  was  at  the  head  of  the  nobility.  Each 
therefore  represented  a  party.  Croisier  gathered  about 
him  the  magistracy  and  the  administrative  and  financial 
officers  of  the  department.  His  salon,  a  power  at 
least  equal  to  that  of  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  more 
numerous,  more  active,  and  younger,  influenced  the 
communitv ;  whereas  the  other  side  remained  tran- 
quilly  composed  within  their  borders.  The  liberals, 
who  had  never  yet  been  able  to  elect  one  of  their  can- 
didates, counted  on  du  Croisier's  connections  to  give 
him  before  long  a  seat  at  the  Left  Centre,  the  nearest 
approach  to  the  pure  Left.  The  correspondents  of  du 
Croisier  in  Paris  were  the  brothers  Keller,  three 
bankers,  the  eldest  of  whom  shone  pre-eminent  among 
the  nineteen  members  of  the  Left ;  that  illustrious 
phalanx  glorified  by  all  the  liberal  journals,  which 
maintained  an  alliance  with  the  Comte  de  Gondreville, 
—  a  constitutional  peer  who  contrived  to  retain  the 
favor  of  Louis  XVIII. 

In  1822,  hostilities,  which  had  been  very  fierce  dur- 
ing the  first  four  vears  of  the  Restoration,  had  lulled. 
The  Croisier  salon  and  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  after 
having  mutually  recognized    their  strength   and   their 


22  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

weakness,  were  awaiting,  no  doubt,  the  results  of 
chance,  —  that  Providence  of  parties.  Ordinary  minds 
were  contented  with  this  apparent  calm,  which  de- 
ceived the  throne ;  but  those  who  lived  on  intimate 
terms  with  du  Croisier  knew  that  in  him,  as  in  all  men 
whose  life  resides  in  their  heads,  the  passion  of  ven- 
geance was  implacable,  above  all,  when  joined  to 
political  ambition. 

At  the  moment  of  which  we  write,  du  Croisier,  who 
formerly  flushed  or  turned  pale  at  the  names  of  d'Es- 
grignon  or  the  Chevalier,  affected  the  silence  and  grav- 
ity of  a  savage.  He  smiled  upon  his  enemies,  all  the 
while  hating  and  watching  them  day  by  day  more 
profoundly.  Since  the  failure  of  his  last  attempt  at 
election,  he  seemed  to  have  decided  to  take  life  tran- 
quilly as  though  he  despaired  of  victory.  One  of  the 
men  who  understood  and  seconded  the  schemes  and 
calculations  of  Croisier's  cold  wrath,  was  the  chief- 
justice  of  the  place,  Monsieur  du  Ronceret,  —  a  coun- 
try land-owner  who  had  formerly  aspired  without 
success  to  the  honor  of  belonging  to  the  Gallery  of 
Antiquities. 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  23 


II. 


A    BAD    EDUCATION. 


The  small  fortune  of  the  d'Esgrignons,  judiciously 
managed  by  the  notary  Chesnel,  barely  sufficed  to  main- 
tain the  family,  for  the  marquis  lived  nobly,  though 
without  the  slightest  show.  The  tutor  of  Victurnien 
d'Esgrignon,  the  hope  of  the  house,  was  an  old  Orato- 
rian,  given  by  the  bishop,  who  lived  in  the  household, 
but  eked  out  his  means  by  other  employment.  The 
wages  of  a  cook,  a  waiting-woman  for  Mademoiselle 
Armande,  an  old  valet  of  the  marquis,  and  two  other 
servants,  the  food  of  four  masters,  and  the  costs  of  an 
education  on  which  nothing  was  spared,  absorbed  the 
family  revenues,  in  spite  of  the  economy  of  Mademoi- 
selle Armande,  in  spite  of  Chesnel's  judicious  adminis- 
tration, and  in  spite,  too,  of  the  affectionate  interest  of 
the  servants.  The  old  notary  was  still  unable  to  make 
repairs  to  the  devastated  chateau  ;  he  awaited  the  ter- 
mination of  the  leases  to  obtain  an  increase  of  revenue, 
either  through  improved  methods  of  agriculture  or 
from  a  decline  of  monetary  values  which  would  bear 
fruit  at  the  expiration  of  contracts  made  in  1809 . 
The  marquis  knew  nothing  of  either  the  details  of  his 
household  or  the  administration  of  his  property.  A 
revelation  of  the  extreme  precautions  taken  to  "  make 
both   ends   meet"   at  the  end   of  the   }Tear,  as   house- 


24  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

keepers  say,  would  have  come  like  a  thunderbolt  upon 
him.  Those  about  him,  knowing  him  so  near  the  close 
of  his  career,  shrank  from  correcting  his  error. 

The  grandeur  of  the  house  of  Esgrignon,  to  which 
no  soul  at  court  or  in  the  state  gave  a  single  thought, 
and  which,  beyond  the  gates  of  the  town  and  a  few 
localities  in  the  department,  was  absolutely  unknown, 
still  existed  in  the  eyes  of  the  marquis  and  his  adherents 
in  all  its  former  dignity.  The  d'Esgrignon  family 
would  soon  recover  its  splendor  to  a  higher  degree 
than  before,  in  the  person  of  Victurnien,  whenever 
the  spoliated  nobles  recovered  their  property,  or  that 
glorious  young  heir  appeared  at  court  to  enter  the 
service  of  the  king  and  consequently  to  marry,  after 
the  fashion  of  all  d'Esgrignons,  a  Navarreins,  a  Ca- 
dignan,  a  d'Uxelles,  a  Beauseant,  a  Blamont-Chauvry, 
■ —  in  short,  some  girl  uniting  the  distinctions  of  nobil- 
ity, wealth,  beauty,  wit,  and  character.  The  persons 
who  gathered  round  the  card-tables  of  the  Gallery  of 
Antiquities,  such  as  the  Chevalier,  the  Troisvilles  (pro- 
nounced Treville)  the  La  Roehe-Guyons,  the  Casterans 
(pronounced  Cateran)  the  Due  de  Verneuil,  —  all  accus- 
tomed to  consider  the  great  marquis  as  a  very  impor- 
tant personage, — encouraged  him  in  these  ideas. 

There  was  nothing  false  or  deluded  in  this  belief. 
It  would  have  been  strictly  correct  if  the  forty  pre- 
ceding years  in  the  history  of  France  could  have  been 
blotted  out.  But  claims  the  most  honorable  and  conse- 
crated (such  as  Louis  XVIII.  endeavored  to  make  them 
by  dating  his  Charter  as  if  in  the  twenty-first  year  of 
his  reign)  exist  only  when  ratified  by  general  consent. 
The  d'Esgrignons  lacked  two  things, — moue}7,  that  basis 


.  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  25 

of  our  present  political  system,  that  great  mainstay  of 
modern  aristocracy,  and  historical  continuity,  in  other 
words,  that  continuous  fame  wfyich  is  won  at  courts  as 
well  as  on  battle-fields,  in  the  salons  of  diplomacy  as  well 
as  in  the  tribune,  by  help  of  a  book  as  well  as  by  brilliant 
deeds ;  in  short,  the  chrism  with  which  the  head  of  each 
successive  o'eneration  is  anointed.  An  inactive  noble 
family,  taking  no  part  in  its  generation,  drops  from 
historical  annals  and  is  forgotten.  The  marriage  of  a 
Demoiselle  de  Troisville  with  General  Montcornet,  so 
far  from  enlightening  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  al- 
most caused  a  rupture  between  the  Troisvilles  and  the 
d'Esgrignon  salon,  which  declared  that  the  Troisvilles 
were  desradin"'  themselves. 

Among  all  these  people  one  man  alone  did  not  share 
such  illusions.  We  need  not  say  that  Chesnel  was 
that  man.  Though  his  devotion,  as  will  be  shown  by 
this  history,  was  absolute  towards  the  great  family, 
now  reduced  to  three  members,  aud  though  he  accepted 
most  of  their  ideas  and  thought  them  sound,  he  had  too 
much  common-sense  and  had  too  long  done  the  business 
of  half  the  families  of  the  department  not  to  follow 
somewhat  the  spirit  of  the  age,  and  recognize  the 
great  change  produced  by  industry  and  modern  ethics. 
The  former  bailiff  saw  plainly  how  the  Revolution 
had  passed  from  the  destructive  action  of  1793,  which 
had  armed  men,  women,  and  children,  erected  scaf- 
folds, cut  off  heads,  and  won  European  battles,  to  the 
tranquil  action  of  the  ideas  which  consecrated  those 
events.  After  clearing  the  field  and  sowing  it,  came 
the  harvest.  In  his  opinion  the  Revolution  had  created 
the  spirit  of  the  new  generation ;   he  saw  its  facts  in  a 


2G  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

thousand  wounds,  and  he  considered  them  irrevocably 
accomplished.  The  fallen  heads  of  the  king  and  queen, 
the  confiscated  property  of  the  nobles,  formed,  to  his 
mind,  engagements  which  bound  together  too  many 
interests  for  those  concerned  to  allow  their  results 
to  be  attacked.  Chesnel  saw  true.  His  fanaticism 
for  the  d'Essriffnons  was  absolute  but  not  blind, 
which  made  it  the  more  beautiful.  The  faith  which 
enables  a  young  monk  to  behold  the  angels  of  paradise 
is  far  inferior  to  the  power  of  the  old  monk  who  points 
them  out  to  him.  The  notary  was  like  the  old  monk : 
he  would  have  given  his  life  to  preserve  some  worm- 
eaten  old  reliquary.  Each  time  that  he  attempted  to 
explain  with  much  circumspection  to  his  old  master  the 
"  novelties,"  sometimes  in  terms  of  ridicule,  sometimes 
affecting  surprise  and  grief,  he  saw  the  smile  of  a 
prophet  on  the  lips  of  the  marquis,  and  in  his  soul  the 
profound  conviction  that  such  follies  would  pass  away 
like  all  the  rest. 

No  one,  perhaps,  has  ever  remarked  how  events  did 
actually  encourage  these  noble  champions  of  a  ruined 
past  to  persist  in  their  beliefs.  What  could  Chesnel 
reply  when  the  marquis,  with  an  imposing  gesture, 
would  sa}^,  "God  has  swept  away  Buonaparte,  his 
armies,  his  vassals,  his  thrones,  and  his  vast  concep- 
tions. God  will  deliver  us  from  all  the  rest"?  Chesnel 
could  only  bow  his  head,  not  daring  to  reply,  "  God 
will  not  sweep  away  all  France." 

They  were  grand,  both  of  them :  one  erecting  him- 
self against  the  deluge  of  facts,  like  some  old  block 
of  mossy  granite  resisting  the  torrents  of  an  Alpine 
gorge ;  the  other  observing  the  course   of  the  waters 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  27 

and  thinking  to  utilize  them.  But  the  good  and  ven- 
erable notary  shuddered  as  he  remarked  the  irreparable 
injury  these  beliefs  of  the  family  were  doing  to  the 
mind,  the  habits  and  morals  and  future  ideas,  of  the 
young  Victurnien. 

Idolized  by  his  aunt,  idolized  by  his  father,  the 
young  heir  was,  in  the  fullest  acceptation  of  the  word, 
a  spoiled  child,  who,  however,  appeared  to  justify  all 
the  paternal  and  maternal  illusions,  — we  say  maternal, 
for  his  aunt  was  truly  a  mother  to  him  ;  although,  how- 
ever tender  and  foreseeing  an  unmarried  woman  may 
be,  there  is  something,  I  know  not  what,  of  maternity 
which  is  lacking  to  her.  The  second-sight  of  a  mother 
cannot  be  acquired.  An  aunt  completely  one  with 
her  nursling  as  Mademoiselle  Armande  was  with  Vic- 
turnien, may  love  it  as  much  as  any  mother,  may  be  as 
attentive,  kind,  delicate,  and  indulgent,  but  she  will 
never  be  stern  with  the  discretion  and  timeliness  of 
the  child's  mother ;  her  heart  will  not  be  conscious 
of  those  sudden  warnings,  those  foreboding  visions 
of  the  mother,  in  whom,  though  broken,  the  nervous 
or  moral  ligaments  by  which  the  child  once  held  to 
her  still  vibrate,  receiving  the  shock  of  his  pains,  and 
quivering  with  his  jo}Ts  as  though  they  were  the  joys 
and  pains  of  her  own  life.  If  nature  has.  physically 
speaking,  considered  woman  as  neutral  ground,  it  has 
not  forbidden  her  in  certain  cases  to  identif}T  herself 
completely  in  its  work.  When  moral  maternity  is 
added  to  natural  maternity,  you  will  see  admirable  phe- 
nomena, unexplained  rather  than  unexplainable,  which 
make  the  supremacy  of  mothers.  This  history  will 
prove  once  more  the  well-known  truth   that  a  mother 


28  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

can  never  be  replaced.  A  mother  would  have  foreseen 
evil  Ions:  before  an  unmarried  woman  like  Made- 
moiselle  Armande  could  admit  it.  One  foresees  dis- 
aster ;  the  other,  at  best,  can  only  remedy  it.  The 
fictitious  motherhood  of  a  girl  is,  moreover,  too  much 
made  up  of  blind  adoration  to  allow  of  her  repri- 
manding a  beloved  child. 

Practical  life  and  long  experience  of  business  had 
given  the  old  notary  an  observing  and  clear-sighted 
distrust  of  many  things,  which  made  him  almost  as 
foreboding  as  a  mother.  But  he  had  so  little  power 
in  the  household,  especially  since  the  sort  of  disgrace 
he  had  incurred  apropos  of  the  marriage  with  du  Croi- 
sier,  that  he  had  long  resolved  to  follow  blindly  the 
doctrines  of  the  family.  A  common  soldier,  faithful 
to  his  post  and  ready  to  die  there,  his  advice  would 
never  have  been  taken,  not  even  in  the  thick  of  the 
battle, — unless  chance  had  placed  him  as  in  "The 
Antiquary  "  it  placed  the  king's  mendicant  on  the  sea- 
shore when  the  lord  and  his  daughter  were  caught  by 
the  tide. 

Du  Croisier,  ever  on  the  watch  to  harm  his  enemies, 
saw  the  possibility  of  vengeance  in  the  mistaken  edu- 
cation given  to  the  young  nobleman.  He  hoped,  to  use 
the  expression  of  the  writer  we  have  already  quoted,  to 
seethe  the  kid  in  its  mother's  milk.  This  hope  was  at 
the  bottom  of  his  silent  resignation,  and  it  kept  upon 
his  lips  the  smile  of  a  savage. 

The  dogma  of  his  supremacy  was  therefore  incul- 
cated on  Comte  Victurnien  as  soon  as  any  idea  at  all 
could  be  put  into  his  brain.  Except  the  king,  all  the 
greatest   seigneurs    in   the    kingdom    were   his    equals. 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  29 

Below  the  nobility  he  had  none  but  inferiors,  —  persons 
with  whom  he  had  nothing  in  common,  towards  whom 
he  had  no  obligations  whatever ;  a  subjected  race  of 
whom  he  was  bound  to  take  no  account,  whose 
opinions  were  absolutely  without  interest  for  a  noble, 
but  who,  one  and  all,  owed  him  respect.  These 
opinions  Victurnien  unfortunately  pushed  to  ex- 
tremes, induced  thereto  by  the  rigorous  logic  which 
leads  young  persons  to  the  highest  pitch  of  good  or 
evil.  He  was  also  confirmed  in  these  beliefs  by  his 
great  external  advantages. 

Of  medium  height  and  well-made,  he  was  slender, 
even  delicate  in  appearance,  though  muscular.  He  had 
the  blue  and  sparkling  eyes  of  the  d'Esgrignons,  their 
curved  and  beautifully  modelled  lips,  the  perfect  oval 
of  their  faces,  their  auburn  hair,  their  white  skins,  their 
elegant  carriage,  their  graceful  extremities,  —  small 
feet,  taper  fingers,  and  great  distinction  in  the  wrists 
and  ankles,  where  free  and  perfect  lines  are  as  much  a 
sisfn  of  race  in  man  as  in  horses.  Dexterous  and  aaile 
in  all  exercises  of  the  body,  he  fenced  like  a  Saint- 
George,  was  a  good  shot  with  pistols,  and  rode  a 
horse  like  a  paladin.  He  flattered  all  the  vanities 
that  parents  can  attach  to  the  externals  of  their  chil- 
dren, which  are  founded,  undoubtedly,  on  a  true  idea; 
namely,  the  excessive  influence  of  beauty.  A  priv- 
ilege like  that  of  nobility  itself,  beauty  cannot  be 
acquired :  it  is  ever}7where  recognized,  and  is  often 
worth  more  than  fortune  or  talent ;  at  times  it  has 
only  to  show  itself  in  order  to  triumph  ;  all  that  we 
require  of  it  is  to  be. 

Besides    these   two   great    privileges,    nobility    and 


30  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

beauty,  chance  had  given  Victurnien  d'Esgrignon  a 
lively  mind,  a  marvellous  aptitude  for  comprehension, 
and  a  fine  memory.  His  education,  so  far  as  instruc- 
tion went,  was  admirable.  He  knew  far  more  than 
most  of  the  young  provincial  nobles,  who  make  good 
hunters,  smokers,  and  excellent  land-owners,  but  re- 
gard cavalierly  enough  the  arts  and  sciences,  letters  and 
poes}7,  —  talents  superior  to  their  own,  which  affront 
them.  These  gifts  of  nature  and  of  education  ought 
to  have  sufficed  to  bring  the  Marquis  d'Esgrignon's 
ambition  to  a  triumphant  realization  at  a  coming  time. 
He  saw  his  son  a  marshal  of  France  if  Victurnien 
wished  to  be  a  soldier,  an  ambassador  if  diplomacy 
tempted  him,  a  minister  if  he  entered  the  administra- 
tion,—  in  short,  all  tilings  in  the  State  belonged  to 
him.  Moreover,  and  this  thought  gratified  the  father's 
pride,  if  the  count  had  not  been  a  d'Esgrignon,  he 
could  have  risen  to  any  height  on  his  own  merits. 

This  happy  childhood,  this  golden  adolescence,  had 
never  met  with  the  faintest  opposition  to  any  of  its 
wishes.  Victurnien  was  sovereign  lord  and  ruler  of  the 
house.  No  one  dreamed  of  checking  the  will  of  the 
little  prince,  who  became  naturally  as  egotistical  as  a 
prince,  self-willed  as  the  most  fiery  cardinal  of  the 
middle  ages,  impertinent  and  audacious,  —  vices  which 
everybody  glorified  as  evidence  of  the  essential  quali- 
ties of  a  noble. 

The  Chevalier  was  a  man  of  the  good  old  times  when 
mousquetaires  made  havoc  in  the  theatres  of  Paris, 
thrashed  the  watch,  fought  the  sheriff,  and  played  a 
thousand  boyish  tricks,  obtaining  a  smile  from  the 
king,  provided  the  pranks  were  droll.     This  charming 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  31 

old  seducer,  former  hero  of  ruelles,  contributed  a  good 
deal  to  the  fatal  termination  of  this  history.  The 
amiable  old  gentleman,  -who  found  no  one  able  to 
understand  him,  was  well  pleased  to  meet  with  this 
fine  specimen  of  an  embryo  Faublas  to  remind  him  of 
his  youth.  Without  appreciating,  or  even  understand- 
ing the  difference  of  periods,  he  put  the  principles  of  the 
dissipated  encyclopedists  into  the  young  lad's  soul;  he 
told  him  anecdotes  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.,  glori- 
fying the  manners  and  customs  of  17.10,  recounting 
the  orgies  in  "  little  houses,"  the  follies  committed 
for  courtesans,  and  the  excellent  tricks  played  upon 
creditors, — in  short,  the  whole  system  of  morals  and 
ethics  which  supplied  the  comedies  of  Dancourt  and 
the  epigrams  of  Beaumarchais. 

Unfortunately,  this  corruption,  concealed  by  external 
elegance,  was  adorned  with  Voltairian  wit.  If  the 
Chevalier  was  conscious  of  occasionally  going  too 
far,  he  added,  by  way  of  corrective,  a  homily  on  the 
laws  of  good  society,  which,  he  said,  a  true  gentleman 
should  always  obey.  Victurnien  understood  nothing  of 
all  these  discourses  except  that  which  ministered  to  his 
passions.  He  saw  his  father  laughing  with  the  Cheva- 
lier. The  two  old  gentlemen  considered  the  inborn  pride 
of  a  d'Esgrignon  barrier  enough  against  all  unbecoming 
conduct ;  and  no  member  of  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities 
would  have  supposed  it  possible  that  a  d'Esgrignon 
could  do  anything  contrary  to  honor.  Honor,  that 
great  monarchical  principle,  planted  in  the  hearts  of 
this  family  like  a  pharos,  instigated  the  smallest  action, 
animated  the  slightest  thought,  of  the  d'Esgrignons. 
The  following  noble  precept  was  sufficient  in  itself  to 


o 


2  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 


establish  a  nobility:  "A  d'Esgrignon  cannot  allow 
himself  to  do  such  or  such  a  thing ;  he  bears  a  name 
which  pledges  him  to  be  in  keeping  with  the  past." 
That  was  the  burden  of  the  song  with  which  the 
marquis,  Mademoiselle  Armande,  Chesnel,  and  all  the 
frequenters  of  the  house  had  rocked  the  cradle  of 
Victurnien's  childhood.  Good  and  evil  were  face  to 
face  with  equal  forces  in  that  young  soul. 

When,  at  eighteen  years  of  age,  Victurnien  first 
appeared  in  the  society  of  the  town,  he  noticed  some 
slight  differences  between  the  exterior  world  and  the 
interior  world  of  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon,  but  he  did 
not  search  for  causes.  The  causes  were  in  Paris.  He 
did  not  yet  know  that  the  persona  so  bold  in  thought 
and  speecli  in  his  father's  house  at  night  were  very 
circumspect  in  presence  of  enemies  with  whom  their 
interests  required  them  to  keep  on  good  terms.  His 
father  had  conquered  the  right  to  plain  speaking.  No 
one  dreamed  of  contradicting  the  old  man  of  seventy ; 
besides,  everybody  willingly  forgave  one  so  cruelly 
despoiled  for  his  fidelity  to  the  ancient  order  of  things. 
Deceived  by  appearances,  Victurnien  behaved  in  a 
manner  to  put  the  whole  bourgeoisie  of  the  town 
against  him.  He  got  into  quarrels  in  the  hunting-field, 
which  his  natural  impetuosity  pushed  too  far,  and 
these  quarrels  sometimes  ended  in  threatened  law-suits 
bought  off  by  Chesnel  at  the  cost  of  money,  —  incidents 
which  no  one  ever  dared  to  tell  his  father.  Fancy  the 
amazement  of  the  Marquis  d'Esgrignon  if  he  had 
heard  that  his  son  was  sued  for  having  hunted  over 
his  estates,  his  domains,  his  forests,  under  the  reign 
of  a  son  of  Saint-Louis!     As  Chesnel  remarked,  peo- 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  33 

pie  feared  the  results  of  telling  him  such  miserable 
things. 

The  young  count  also  got  into  other  scrapes,  —  love- 
affairs,  which  the  Chevalier  endeavored  to  settle,  but 
which  finally  cost  Chesnel  secret  dowries  paid  to  girls 
seduced  under  promise  of  marriage ;  and  other  mis- 
demeanors called  in  the  Code  "  perversions  of  minors," 
which,  owing  to  the  brutality  of  modern  justice,  would 
have  led  the  young  count  Heaven  knows  where  but  for 
the  prudent  intervention  of  Chesnel. 

Such  victories  over  bourgeois  laws  emboldened  Vic- 
turnien.  Accustomed  to  get  safely  out  of  his  many 
pranks,  he  refrained  from  nothing  that  he  thought 
amusing.  He  regarded  courts  of  justice  as  scarecrows 
for  the  common  people,  which  had  nothing  to  do  with 
him.  What  he  blamed  in  plebeians,  he  considered  the 
proper  amusements  of  a  man  of  his  station. 

This  conduct,  together  with  the  young  count's  nature 
and  his  inclination  to  despise  the  new  laws  and  obey 
none  but  the  precepts  of  the  code  noble,  were  studied, 
analyzed,  and  even  tested  by  certain  clever  individuals 
of  the  Croisier  party.  These  persons  supported  each 
other  in  making  the  body  of  the  townspeople  believe 
that  a  return  to  the  old  order  of  things  in  all  its  former 
meanings  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  present  ministerial 
policy.  What  luck  for  them  to  have  this  semi-proof  of 
their  assertions  !  The  chief-justice  of  the  town,  Mon- 
sieur du  Ronceret,  lent  himself  to  these  ideas  so  far  as 
they  were  compatible  with  his  magisterial  office ;  and 
so  did  the  procureur-du-roi.  They  went  beyond  that 
limit  occasionally  by  favoring  Victurnien,  and  thus  giv- 
ing ground  for  a  liberal  outcry.     Du  Ronceret  excited 

3 


34  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

the  popular  feeling  against  the  d'Esgrignon  family  by 
seeming  to  serve  it.  Du  Croisier  himself  hoped  to 
reduce  that  family  to  poverty,  to  see  their  lands  sold 
at  auction,  and  the  old  chateau  demolished  as  the 
result  of  their  sacrifices  for  the  foolish  youth,  whose 
excesses  must  sooner  or  later  involve  them.  He  did 
not  go  farther  than  that ;  he  did  not  believe,  as  du 
Ronceret  predicted,  that  Victurnien  would  ever  really 
put  himself  within  reach  of  the  law. 

The  vengeance  of  these  men  was  well  seconded  by 
Victurnien's  extreme  self-conceit  and  by  his  love  for 
pleasure.  Between  the  ages  of  eighteen  and  twenty  he 
cost  the  poor  notary  nearly  eighty  thousand  francs,  with- 
out the  knowledge  of  either  Mademoiselle  Armande  or 
the  marquis.  The  hushed-up  suits  cost  the  half  of  this 
sum,  and  the  extravagance  of  the  young  count  con- 
sumed the  rest.  Of  the  marquis's  ten  thousand  francs 
a  year,  five  thousand  were  required  for  the  costs  of  the 
household;  the  personal  expenses  of  Mademoiselle 
Armande  (in  spite  of  her  close  economy)  and  those  of 
the  marquis  employed  two  thousand  more  ;  so  that  the 
allowance  of  the  glorious  heir-presumptive  could  not 
exceed  another  two  thousand.  And  what  could  two 
thousand  francs  a  year  do  towards  making  a  proper 
appearance  in  the  world  ?  Dress  alone  took  the  whole 
of  it.  Victurnien  sent  to  Paris  for  his  linen,  his  clothes, 
gloves,  perfumes,  etc.  He  wanted  a  riding-horse  and 
a  tilbury  and  a  tilbury-horse.  Du  Croisier  had  a  fine 
English  horse  and  a  tilbury ;  ought  the  nobility  to 
allow  themselves  to  be  crushed  by  the  bourgeoisie? 
After  that,  the  count  wanted  a  groom  in  the  family 
livery.     Flattered  by  setting  the  fashion  to  the  town, 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  35 

the  department,  and  the  youth  of  the  neighborhood,  he 
was  fairly  launched  into  the  world  of  fancies  and 
luxury  which  seem  so  appropriate  to  handsome  and 
clever  young  men.  Chesnel  supplied  the  money  ;  not, 
however,  without  using,  as  did  the  former  parlia- 
ments, the  right  of  remonstrance,  though  with  angelic 
mildness. 

' '  What  a  pity  such  a  good  old  fellow  should  be  so 
tiresome  !  "  thought  Victurnien  each  time  that  the  notary 
applied  both  money  and  warning  to  an  open  wound. 

A  widower  without  children,  Chesnel  had  adopted 
the  son  of  his  former  master  in  the  very  depths  of  his 
heart.  He  enjoyed  seeing  him  drive  through  the  chief 
street  of  the  town,  perched  on  the  double  cushion  of 
his  tilbury,  whip  in  hand,  a  rose  in  his  button-hole, 
handsome,  well-dressed,  and  the  envy  of  all.  When, 
in  some  pressing  need,  a  loss  at  cards  at  the  Trois- 
villes,  the  Due  de  Verneuil's,  the  Prefecture,  or  else- 
where, Victurnien  would  come  with  a  calm  voice,  an 
anxious  eye,  and  a  coaxing  gesture  to  his  providence,  — 
the  old  notary  in  his  modest  house  in  the  rue  du 
Bercail,  —  the  battle  was  won  as  soon  as  he  showed 
himself. 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Monsieur  le  comte?  What  has 
happened  now?"  the  good  man  would  say  in  a  troubled 
voice. 

On  these  occasions  Victurnien  sat  down,  assumed  a 
reflective  and  melancholy  air  and  let  himself  be  ques- 
tioned, affecting  much  compunction.  After  causing 
the  greatest  anxiety  to  the  worthy  notai^,  who  was 
beo-innino;  to  fear  the  results  of  such  continued  dissipa- 
tion,   he   would  confess    some  small   peccadillo  which 


36  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

could  easily  be  settled  for  a  thousand  francs.  Ches- 
nel,  besides  his  practice,  possessed  about  twelve 
thousand  francs  a  year.  These  funds  were  not  inex- 
haustible. The  eighty  thousand  squandered  by  Victur- 
nien  were  his  savings  which  he  had  been  laying  by 
against  the  time  when  the  marquis  should  send  his  son 
to  Paris,  or  money  were  needed  to  facilitate  some  fine 
marriage  for  the  lad.  Clear-sighted  enough  when 
Victurnien  was  not  by,  Chesnel  was  losing,  one  by  one, 
the  fond  illusions  which  the  marquis  and  his  sister 
cherished.  Recognizing  in  the  lad  a  total  lack  of  the 
sense  of  proper  conduct,  he  was  anxious  to  marry  him 
to  some  girl  of  his  own  rank  who  was  virtuous  and 
prudent.  He  asked  himself  how  a  young  man  could 
think  so  well  and  act  so  ill,  when  he  saw  him,  on  the 
morrow  of  some  appeal,  doing  the  contrary  of  what  he 
had  promised  the  night  before. 

There  is  no  good  to  be  expected  from  young  fellows 
who  confess  their  faults,  repent  them,  and  renew  them. 
Men  of  fine  characters  confess  their  faults  to  them- 
selves, and  punish  themselves  for  them.  As  for  weak 
men,  they  fall  back  into  the  old  track,  finding  the  edge 
of  it  too  troublesome  to  skirt.  Victurnien,  in  whom  his 
guardians  had  unconsciously  —  together  with  his  habits 
and  his  companions  —  relaxed  the  springs  of  inward 
pride,  had  suddenly  fallen  into  the  weakness  of  the 
voluptuary  at  the  moment  of  his  life  when,  in  order  to 
develop  his  forces,  he  had  need  of  that  regime  of 
oppositions  and  privations  which  formed  such  men  as 
Prince  Eugene,  Frederick  the  Great,  and  Napoleon. 
Chesnel  saw  in  Victurnien  that  unconquerable  passion 
for  enjoyment  which  seems  the  birthmark  of  men  who 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  37 

are  gifted  with  great  talents,  and  who  feel  the  necessity 
of  counter-balancing  the  exhausting  exercise  of  them 
by  the  compensations  of  pleasure,  —  a  passion  which 
leads  to  perdition  if  those  talents  are  used  only  for 
sensual  enjoyments.  The  good  notary  was  at  times 
terrified ;  but  at  other  times  the  brilliant  wit  and  the 
well-informed  mind  which  made  the  young  man  so 
remarkable  reassured  him.  He  said  to  himself  what 
the  marquis  said  when  the  rumor  of  some  escapade 
reached  his  ears,  "  Youth  must  have  its  day."  When 
Chesnel  complained  to  the  Chevalier  of  the  young 
count's  propensity  to  run  in  debt,  the  Chevalier  would 
listen  as  he  gathered  a  pinch  of  snuff,  and  say  with  a 
scoffing  air :  — 

"Explain  to  me  the  public  debt,  my  dear  Chesnel. 
Hey,  the  deuce !  if  France  has  debts,  why  should  n't 
Victurnien  have  them?  To-day,  as  in  the  olden  time, 
princes  have  debts,  all  gentlemen  have  debts.  Do 
you  expect  Victurnien  to  bring  you  savings?  Don't 
you  know  wiiat  wras  said  by  our  great  Richelieu  — 
not  the  cardinal,  that  wretch  who  throttled  the  nobility, 
but  the  marshal  —  when  his  grandson,  the  Prince  de 
Chinon,  the  last  of  the  Richelieus,  showed  him  his 
purse  and  told  him  he  did  not  spend  his  pocket- 
money  at  college  ?  " 

"  No,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier." 

"Well,  he  threw  the  purse  out  of  the  window  to  a 
street  sweeper  and  said  to  his  grandson,  '  So  they 
don't  teach  you  to  be  a  prince !  ' " 

Chesnel  bowed  his  head  without  a  word.  But  that 
night  before  he  went  to  sleep,  the  old  man  reflected 
that  such  doctrines   must  prove  fatal  in  an  age  when 


38  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

the  police  existed  for  high   and  low,  and  he  saw  the 
seeds  of  the  ruin  of  the  house  of  Essjrtenon. 

Without  these  explanations,  which  picture  one  whole 
side  of  the  history  of  provincial  life  during  the  Empire 
and  the  Restoration,  it  would  be  difficult  to  understand 
the  scene  with  which  the  present  narrative  opens. 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  39 


III. 


PREPARATIONS  FOR  A  JOURNEY  TO  COURT. 

One  evening  toward  the  end  of  October,  in  the  year 
1822,  the  customary  scene  was  taking  place  in  the 
Gallery  of  Antiquities.  Play  was  over ;  and  the  usual 
noblemen,  the  old  couutesses,  and  the  simple  baronesses 
were  paying  their  debts  and  pocketing  their  winnings. 
The  old  marquis  was  walking  up  and  down  the  room, 
while  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon  went  about  extin- 
guishing  the  wax  candles  on  the  card-tables.  The 
marquis  was  not  alone;  the  Chevalier  accompanied 
him.  These  two  relics  of  a  preceding  age  were  talking 
of  Victurnien.  The  Chevalier  had  been  charged  to 
make  suggestions  on  the  young  man's  behalf  to  the 
marquis. 

"  Yes,  marquis,"  said  the  Chevalier,  "  your  son  is 
wasting  his  youth  and  his  time  in  this  place.  You 
ought  to  send  him  to  court." 

14 1  have  always  thought  that  if  my  great  age  for- 
bade my  going  to  court,  where  —  between  ourselves  be 
it  said  —  I  don't  know  how  I  could  bear  seeing  what 
goes  on  among  the  new  class  of  people  whom  the  king 
receives,  I  should  send  my  son  to  present  my  homage 
to  his  Majesty.  The  king  ought  to  give  something  to 
the  count,  —  a  regiment  perhaps,  or  an  office  in  his 
household ;    put  him  in  the  way,  in  short,  to  win  his 


40  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

spurs.  My  uncle,  the  archbishop,  suffered  a  cruel 
martyrdom ;  I  myself  fought  through  the  troubles,  not 
deserting  the  camp  like  those  who  thought  it  their 
duty  to  follow  the  prince.  As  I  looked  at  it,  the  king 
was  still  in  France,  and  his  nobility  ought  to  fight  for 
him  there.  Well,  he  has  never  so  far  thought  of  us, 
whereas  Henri  IV.  would  have  written  at  once  to  the 
d'Esgrignons,  '  Come,  friends !  we  have  won  our 
cause.'  We  are  something  more  than  the  Troisvilles, 
as  you  know ;  but  two  Troisvilles  are  made  peers  of 
France,  another  is  deputy  from  the  nobility  "  (the  mar- 
quis mistook  the  electoral  colleges  for  assemblies  of  his 
own  caste).  "  Ah  !  truly,  they  think  no  more  about  us 
than  if  we  did  not  exist.  I  have  been  awaiting  the 
visit  the  princes  were  to  make  here  ;  but  if  the  princes 
do  not  come  to  us,  we  must  go  to  them." 

"  I  am  delighted  to  hear  you  mean  to  send  our  dear 
Victurnien  into  the  great  world,"  said  the  Chevalier, 
adroitly.  "  This  town  is  a  mere  hole  where  his  talents 
ought  not  to  be  buried.  Whom  could  he  ever  find  here 
but  some  silly  Norman  girl,  half-educated,  if  rich? 
What  could  he  make  of  her,  —  his  wife?    Good  God  !  " 

"  I  hope  that  he  will  not  marry  until  he  obtains  some 
fine  appointment  from  the  State  or  the  Crown,"  said 
the  marquis.      "  But  there  are  difficulties." 

Here  are  the  difficulties,  the  only  difficulties,  which 
the  marquis  could  perceive  at  the  opening  of  his  son's 
career. 

u  My  son,"  he  resumed,  after  a  pause  which  was 
marked  by  a  sigh,  "  the  Comte  d'Esgrignon,  cannot 
present  himself  at  court  barefooted ;  we  must  equip 
him.     Alas !  we  have  no  longer,   as   wTe  once  had,  a 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  41 

retinue  of  squires.  Ah,  Chevalier,  this  destruction 
from  top  to  bottom  came  from  the  first  blow  of  the 
hammer  of  Monsieur  de  Mirabeau.  To-day  the  one 
thing  needful  is  money,  —  that  is  all  that  I  can  see 
clearly  in  the  benefits  of  the  Restoration.  The  king 
does  not  ask  if  you  are  a  descendant  of  the  Valois  or 
whether  I  belong  to  the  Conquerors  of  Gaul,  he  asks 
if  we  pay  a  thousand  a  year  in  taxes.  I  could  not 
send  the  count  to  court  without  some  fifty  or  sixty 
thousand  francs." 

"  Yes,  with  that  little  sum  he  can  present  himself 
gallantly,"  said  the  Chevalier. 

"  Well,"  said  Mademoiselle  Armande,  "  I  have  asked 
Chesnel  to  come  here  to-night.  Would  you  believe  it, 
Chevalier,  that  since  the  day  when  Chesnel  proposed 
to  me  to  marry  that  miserable  du  Croisier  —  " 

"  Ah  !  that  was  a  most  improper  thing  to  do,  made- 
moiselle," cried  the  Chevalier. 

"  Unpardonable,"  said  the  marquis. 

"  Well,  since  that  day,"  continued  Mademoiselle 
Armande,  "my  brother  has  never  been  willing  to  ask 
the  smallest  service  of  Chesnel." 

"Your  old  servant!"  exclaimed  the  Chevalier. 
"Ah,  marquis,  you  would  do  Chesnel  an  honor,  —  an 
honor  for  which  he  would  be  grateful  to  the  end  of  his 
days." 

"  No,"  said  the  marquis ;   "  I  do  not  think  it  right." 

"Right!"  cried  the  Chevalier,  slightly  shrugging 
his  shoulders  ;   "  why,  it  is  necessary  !  " 

"  Never !  "  said  the  marquis,  replying  with  a  gesture 
which  decided  the  Chevalier  to  risk  a  great  stroke  in 
order  to  enlighten  the  old  man. 


42  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"Well,  if  you  don't  know  it,  I  shall  have  to  tell 
you,"  he  said;  "Chesnel  has  already  given  a  good 
deal  to  your  son,  something  like —  " 

"My  son  is  incapable  of  receiving  any  sum,  no 
matter  what,  from  Chesnel,"  cried  the  old  man,  drawing 
himself  up  and  interrupting  the  Chevalier;  "he  may 
have  asked  you  —  you  —  for  a  few  louis." 

"  —  something  like  a  hundred  thousand  francs, "con- 
tinued the  Chevalier. 

"  The  Comte  d'Esgrignon  owes  one  hundred  thou- 
sand francs  to  a  Chesnel !  "  said  the  old  man,  in  a  tone 
of  the  deepest  sorrow.  "Ah!  if  he  were  not  an  only 
son,  he  should  start  to-night  for  the  Isles  with  a  cap- 
tain's commission.  Owe  to  usurers  whom  you  pay 
with  heavy  interest  if  you  will !  but  Chesnel,  a  man  to 
whom  we  are  attached  —  " 

"Yes,  our  dear  Victurnien  has  run  through  a  hun- 
dred thousand  francs,  marquis,"  resumed  the  Chevalier, 
shaking  off  some  grains  of  snuff  which  had  fallen  on 
his  waistcoat ;  "  that 's  not  much,  I  know  ;  at  his  age, 
I —  But  never  mind  our  reminiscences,  marquis.  The 
count  is  in  the  provinces  now ;  but  put  him  in  the 
great  world,  and  he  '11  go  far.  I  see  in  him  the  dissipa- 
tions of  men  who  do  great  things  in  the  world  —  ': 

"He  sleeps  under  this  roof  and  has  never  said  one 
word  to  his  father !  "  cried  the  marquis. 

"  He  sleeps  with  the  innocence  of  a  child  who  has 
only  broken  the  hearts  of  two  or  three  little  bour- 
geoises and  who  now  wants  duchesses,"  responded  the 
Chevalier. 

"  But  he  deserves  a  lettre  de  cachet!" 

"  They  have  suppressed  lettres  de  cachet,"  said  the 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  43 

Chevalier,  contemptuously;  "and  you  know  how  the 
liberals  shrieked  when  we  wanted  a  special  court  of 
justice.  We  could  n't  even  keep  the  provost  courts 
which  Monsieur  de  Buonaparte  called  '  Military 
Commissions.'  " 

"  Then  what  are  we  to  do  when  our  sons  are  foolish 
or  turn  out  worthless,  if  we  can't  so  much  as  lock  them 
up?  "  demanded  the  marquis. 

The  Chevalier  looked  at  the  father  in  distress  and 
dared  not  answer  with  the  truth,  "  AVe  shall  be  forced 
to  bring  them  up  well." 

"  And  you  never  told  me  all  this,  Mademoiselle 
d'Esgrignon,"  said  the  marquis,  turning  to  Armando. 

These  words  denoted  irritation ;  he  usually  said 
"  my  sister,"  and  only  called  her  Mademoiselle  d'Es- 
grignon when  much  disturbed. 

"But,  monsieur,  when  a  lively  and  clever  young 
man  is  idle  in  a  town  like  this,  what  can  you  expect?  " 
said  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon,  who  did  not  understand 
her  brother's  anger. 

"Hey!  the  deuce!  debts,  of  course,"  put  in  the 
Chevalier.  "He  plays,  he  has  his  little  adventures, 
he  hunts ;  and  such  things  are  horribly  expensive  in 
these  da}Ts." 

"I  see,"  said  the  marquis,  "  that  it  is  high  time  to 
send  him  to  the  king.  I  will  spend  to-morrow  morn- 
ing in  writing  to  our  relations." 

"  I  know  the  Dues  de  Navarreins,  de  Lenoncourt, 
de  Maufrigneuse,  de  Chaulieu,"  said  the  Chevalier, 
who,  nevertheless,  was  well  aware  that  they  had  for- 
gotten him. 

"My  dear   Chevalier,  there   is  no  need  of   that  in 


44  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

order  to  present  a  d'Esgrignon  at  court,"  said  the 
marquis,  interrupting  him.  "  A  hundred  thousand 
francs !  Chesnel  is  very  bold.  See  the  result  of  those 
cursed  troubles,  —  a  Monsieur  Chesnel  protects  my  son  ! 
and  I  must  ask  him  —  No !  sister,  you  must  manage 
this  affair.  Chesnel  is  to  take  security  on  all  our  prop- 
erty for  the  whole  sum  ;  and  you  must  lecture  that 
heedless  boy,  or  he  will  end  in  ruin." 

The  Chevalier  and  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon  thought 
these  words  quite  simple  and  natural,  comical  as  they 
may  seem  to  others.  They  were  deeply  moved  by  the 
almost  sorrowful  expression  of  the  old  man's  face. 
For  a  moment  Monsieur  d'Esgrignon  felt  the  weight 
of  some  sinister  foreboding ;  in  that  instant  he  almost 
divined  his  epoch.  He  sat  down  upon  a  sofa  beside 
the  fire,  forgetting  Chesnel,  who  was  coming,  and  from 
whom  he  desired  to  ask  nothing. 

The  Marquis  d'Esgrignon,  as  he  sat  there,  presented 
the  outward  appearance  that  all  poetic  imaginations 
would  desire  for  him.  His  nearly  bald  head  still  re- 
tained a  fringe  of  silky  white  hair,  which  fell  in  long 
flat  locks  curled  at  their  extremities.  His  fine  brow, 
nobly  dignified,  — the  brow  we  admire  in  Louis  XV., 
Beaumarchais,  and  the  Marechal  de  Richelieu,  —  was 
of  a  graceful  convex  shape,  delicately  modelled,  with 
smooth  and  polished  temples.  His  brilliant  eyes  flashed 
with  a  courage  and  fire  that  age  had  never  quenched. 
He  had  the  nose  of  the  Condes,  and  the  amiable  mouth 
of  the  Bourbons,  from  which,  as  the  Comte  d'Artois 
was  wont  to  say,  none  but  witty  or  kindly  words  ever 
issued.  His  neck  was  held  in  a  cravat  like  those  of 
marquises  whose   portraits  we  see  in   the  engravings 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  45 

of  the  last  century,  like  those  of  Saint-Preux,  Lovelace, 
and  the  heroes  of  the  bourgeois  Diderot,  and  those  of 
the  elegant  Montesquieu,  as  seen  in  the  earliest  edition 
of  their  works. 

The  marquis  always  wore  a  large  white  waistcoat 
embroidered  in  gold,  on  which  shone  the  ribbon  of 
a  commander  of  Saint-Louis,  a  blue  coat  with  broad 
tails,  the  lapels  turned  back  and  marked  with  a  fleur- 
de-lis,  —  a  curious  fashion  adopted  by  the  king,  —  but 
he  never  abandoned  French  breeches,  nor  white  silk 
stockings  and  shoe-buckles  ;  by  six  o'clock  in  the  even- 
ing he  was  always  to  be  seen  in  full  dress.  He  read 
nothing  but  the  "  Quotidienne  "  and  the  "  Gazette  de 
France,"  —  two  journals  which  the  constitutional  news- 
papers accused  of  obscurantism  and  other  monar- 
chical and  religious  enormities,  while  the  marquis  him- 
self thought  them  full  of  heresies  and  revolutionary 
ideas.  However  exaggerated  may  be  the  organs  of 
any  opinion,  they  are  always  below  the  requirements 
of  the  ultras  of  their  party ;  just  as  the  painter  of  this 
noble  personage  will  certainly  be  taxed  with  having 
exaggerated  the  truth,  whereas  he  has  really  softened 
some  salient  points  and  reduced  some  fiery  features  in 
his  model. 

The  Marquis  d'Esgrignon  now  sat  with  his  elbows 
on  his  knees,  and  his  head  in  his  hands.  During  all  the 
time  that  he  thus  meditated,  Mademoiselle  Armande 
and  the  Chevalier  looked  at  each  other  without  com- 
municating their  ideas.  Did  the  marquis  suffer  at  the 
thought  of  owing  the  future  of  his  son  to  his  former 
bailiff?  Did  he  doubt  the  welcome  his  son  might 
receive    from  the  king?     Did   he   regret  having  failed 


46  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

to  prepare  for  the  young  man's  appearance  in  the 
brilliant  society  of  the  court  by  remaining  in  the  depths 
of  his  province,  where  poverty  had  kept  him  ?  Alas ! 
how  could  he  have  done  otherwise  ?  He  sighed  heavily 
as  he  raised  his  head.  That  sigh  was  like  many  others 
given  at  that  time  by  the  true  and  loyal  aristocracy, 
the  provincial  noblemen,  now  so  neglected,  as  were  all 
those  who  had  seized  their  swords  and  fought  for  the 
royal  cause  on  the  soil  of  France. 

"  What  have  they  done  for  the  Montaurans,  the  du 
Guenics,  the  Fontaines,  the  Bauvans,  who  never  sub- 
mitted? "  he  murmured  to  himself  in  a  low  voice.  uTo 
those  who  fought  the  bravest  they  have  flung  a  miser- 
able pension  or  some  lieutenancy  of  the  king  in  a 
fortress,  on  the  frontier." 

Evidently  the  marquis  was  beginning  to  doubt 
royalty.  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon  had  said  a  few 
words  to  reassure  her  brother  on  Victurnien's  prospects, 
when  a  step  on  the  pavement  of  the  street  beneath  the 
windows  announced  the  coming  of  Chesnel,  and  the 
notary  soon  appeared.  Josephin,  the  old  valet,  opened 
the  door  and  ushered  him  in  without  a  word. 

4 '  Chesnel,  my  lad  —  " 

The  notary  was  sixty-nine  years  old,  with  a  bald 
head,  a  venerable  face,  and  breeches  of  an  amplitude 
which  deserved  one  of  Sterne's  descriptive  epics ;  he 
wore  ribbed  stockings,  shoes  with  silver  buckles,  a  coat 
like  a  chasuble,  and  a  very  large  waistcoat. 

" — you  have  been  very  rash  in  lending  money  to 
Comte  d'Esgrignon.  You  deserve  that  I  should  return 
it  to  you  instantly  and  never  see  you  again,  for  you 
have  given  wings  to  his  vices." 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  47 

Silence  followed,  as  at  court  when  the  king  reprimands 
a  courtier.  The  old  notary  maintained  a  humble  and 
contrite  attitude. 

u  Chesnel,"  continued  the  marquis,  kindly,  "I  am 
uneasy  about  the  boy.  I  want  to  send  him  to  Paris  to 
serve  the  king.  Make  some  arrangement  with  my  sister 
to  enable  him  to  go  there  in  a  suitable  manner,  and 
then  you  and  I  will  settle  our  accounts." 

The  marquis  withdrew  gravely,  nodding  to  Chesnel 
in  a  familiar  way. 

"I  thank  Monsieur  le  marquis  for  all  his  kindness," 
said  the  old  man,  who  remained  standing. 

Mademoiselle  Armande  rose  to  accompany  her 
brother ;  she  had  already  rung,  and  the  valet  was  at  the 
door  with  lights  to  conduct  his  master  to  his  bedroom. 

"Sit  down,  Chesnel,"  said  the  old  maid,  on  return- 
ing. 

With  feminine  consideration  Mademoiselle  Armande 
was  in  the  habit  of  softening  the  harshness  of  her 
brother's  intercourse  with  his  former  bailiff,  although 
Chesnel  himself  divined  beneath  that  harshness  a 
glorious  affection.  The  attachment  of  the  marquis  to 
his  old  servitor  was  a  passion  like  that  a  master  feels 
for  his  dog,  which  leads  him  to  fight  the  man  who  would 
kick  the  animal  he  regards  as  an  integral  part  of  his 
own  existence,  as  a  thing  which,  without  being  abso- 
lutely himself,  represents  him  in  all  that  is  dearest  to 
him  ;  namely,  his  sentiments. 

"  It  is  high  time  to  send  Monsieur  le  comte  away  from 
this  town,  mademoiselle,"  said  the  notary,  sententiously. 

"Yes,"  she  replied.  "Has  he  got  into  any  new 
scrape  ?  " 


48  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"  No,  mademoiselle." 

"  Then  why  do  you  blame  him  ?  " 

"  Mademoiselle,  I  do  not  blame  him.  No,  I  do  not 
blame  him.  I  am  far  from  blaming  him.  I  will  never 
blame  him,  never,  —  no  matter  what  he  does." 

The  conversation  dropped.  The  Chevalier,  a  being 
eminently  comprehending,  began  to  yawn  like  a  man 
overcome  with  sleep.  He  gracefully  excused  himself 
and  left  the  house  with  as  much  desire  to  sleep  as  he 
had  to  drown  himself ;  the  demon  of  curiosity  held  his 
eyes  wide  open  and  delicately  took  out  the  cotton  the 
Chevalier  was  in  the  habit  of  putting  in  his  ears. 

"  Well,  Chesnel,  is  there  some  new  anxiety?  "  asked 
Mademoiselle  Armande. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Chesnel,  "things  I  cannot  speak  of 
to  the  marquis  ;  he  might  have  a  fit  of  apoplexy." 

"  Tell  me,"  she  said,  laying  her  beautiful  head  on 
the  back  of  the  easy-chair  and  letting  her  arms  drop  to 
her  sides,  like  a  person  who  expects  a  death-blow  and 
does  not  evade  it. 

"  Mademoiselle,  Monsieur  le  comte,  who  is  so  clever, 
is  nevertheless  a  puppet  in  the  hands  of  certain  men 
who  want  to  wreak  their  vengeance  through  him.  They 
hope  to  ruin  us,  to  humiliate  us.  The  judge,  that  Sieur 
du  Ronceret,  has,  as  you  know,  pretensions  to  nobility." 

"His  father  was  an  attorney,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Armande. 

"I  know  it,"  said  the  notary.  "Therefore,  of 
course,  you  have  never  received  him  in  your  house ; 
neither  do  the  Troisvilles,  or  the  Due  de  Verneuil  or 
the  Marquis  de  Casteran ;  but  he  is  one  of  the  pillars 
of  the  du  Croisier  salon.     His  son,  Monsieur  Fabien 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  49 

da  Ronceret,  with  whom  your  nephew  can  consort  with- 
out compromising  himself  too  much  —  for  you  know 
he  must  have  young  companions — well,  that  young 
man  is  leading  him  into  all  sorts  of  follies,  —  he,  and 
two  or  three  others  on  du  Croisier's  side.  Your  enemies 
hope  to  ruin  you  through  your  nephew ;  they  are  try- 
ing to  fling  him  into  the  mud.  That  s}Tcophant  of  a 
du  Croisier,  who  shams  royalist,  is  at  the  bottom  of  all 
this.  His  poor  unhappy  wife  knew  nothing  of  it,  or  I 
should  have  known  it  sooner.  Lately  the  truth  has 
leaked  out  from  some  of  Monsieur  le  comte's  com- 
panions while  they  were  drunk.  These  speeches  have 
been  reported  to  me  by  persons  who  are  grieved  to  see 
so  fine,  so  noble,  so  charming  a  young  man  going  to 
perdition.  At  present  they  pity  him;  later,  they  will 
—  I  dare  not  —  " 

"Despise  him;  say  it,  Chesnel,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Armande,  sorrowfully. 

"  Alas!  how  can  we  prevent  the  good  people  of  the 
town,  who  have  nothing  to  do  from  morning  till  night, 
from  talking  about  their  neighbors'  actions?  Conse- 
quently, Monsieur  le  comte's  losses  at  play  are  all 
added  up.  For  the  last  two  months  they  amount  to 
thirty  thousand  francs ;  and  everybody  of  course  asks 
where  he  gets  the  money.  When  anything  is  said 
before  me,  I  call  people  to  order.  But,  :.h,  what  good 
does  that  do?  Only  this  morning  I  was  saying  to 
some  of  them :  '  Do  you  suppose  because  the  d'Esgri- 
gnon  estates  were  confiscated  that  their  other  property 
was  lost  too?  The  young  count  is  justified  in  doing 
what  he  likes ;  and  as  long  as  he  does  n't  owe  you  any- 
thing, what  have  you  to  say  against  it? '" 

4 


50  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

Mademoiselle  Armande  held  out  her  hand,  on  which 
the  notary  laid  a  respectful  kiss. 

"  My  good  Chesnel !  My  friend,  how  can  we  get  the 
money  to  send  him  to  Paris?  Victurnien  cannot  appear 
at  court  without  sufficient  means  to  maintain  his  rank." 

"Mademoiselle,  I  have  borrowed  on  Le  Jard." 

"What!  had  you  nothing  left?  Good  God!"  she 
cried,  "  how  can  we  ever  reward  you?  " 

"  By  accepting  the  hundred  thousand  francs  which 
I  will  hold  at  your  disposal.  You  understand,  of  course, 
that  this  loan  has  been  made  secretly,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
credit you.  To  the  eyes  of  the  town  I  belong  to  the 
house  of  Esgrignon." 

Tears  came  into  Mademoiselle  Armande's  eyes. 
Chesnel,  seeing  them,  lifted  a  fold  of  her  dress  and 
kissed  it. 

"It  will  be  nothing,"  he  said;  "young  men  must 
sow  their  wild  oats.  Intercourse  with  the  best  salons 
in  Paris  will  change  the  course  of  his  ideas.  Here,  to 
speak  the  truth,  though  your  old  friends  have  the 
noblest  hearts  and  are  the  worthiest  people  in  the 
world,  they  are  not  amusing.  Monsieur  le  comte  is 
really  forced  to  descend  below  his  station  if  he  wants 
diversion,  and  he  might  end  in  leading  a  low  life." 

The  next  day  the  old  travelling-carriage  of  the 
d'Esgrignons  saw  the  light  and  was  sent  to  the  saddler's 
to  be  put  in  good  condition.  The  young  count  was 
solemnly  informed  by  his  father  after  breakfast  of 
the  intentions  on  his  behalf.  He  was  to  go  to  court 
and  ask  for  service  under  the  king ;  on  the  journey  he 
would  do  well  to  decide  on  his  career,  whether  in  the 
army  or  the  navy,  or  as  minister  or  ambassador,  or  in 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  51 

the  household  of  the  king ;  he  had  only  to  choose,  for 
all  careers  were  open  to  him.  The  king  would  doubt- 
less be  pleased  with  the  house  of  Esgrignon  for  not 
having  previously  asked  favors,  and  be  all  the  more 
ready  to  bestow  them  now  on  the  heir  of  the  family. 

Since  taking  to  his  career  of  folly,  young  d'Esgri- 
gnon  had  thought  of  Paris  and  longed  for  real  life.  As 
the  leading  question  in  his  mind  was  how  to  leave  the 
provinces  and  his  father's  house,  he  listened  gravely  to 
the  allocution  of  his  excellent  parent,  and  refrained 
from  remarking  that  the  army  and  navy  were  not  to 
be  entered  as  they  formerly  were ;  that  in  order  to 
become  a  sub-lieutenant  of  cavalry  without  going 
through  the  technical  schools  he  must  have  been  a  page 
in  the  king's  service ;  that  the  sons  of  the  most  illus- 
trious  families  entered  Saint-Cyr  and  the  Ecole  Poly- 
technique  like  the  sons  of  plebeians,  after  competitive 
examinations  in  which  the  sons  of  noblemen  stood 
their  chance  of  coming  out  below  the  sons  of  peasants. 
If  he  enlightened  his  father  on  these  points,  he  might 
not  be  able  to  obtain  the  necessary  funds  for  a  stay  in 
Paris.  Victurnien  therefore  allowed  his  father  and  his 
Aunt  Armande  to  believe  that  he  had  only  to  show  him- 
self in  order  to  drive  in  the  king's  carriage,  obtain  the 
rank  the  d'Esgrignons  supposed  to  be  still  theirs,  and 
consort  with  the  great  seigneurs. 

Grieved  not  to  be  able  to  give  his  son  a  suitable 
valet  to  accompany  him,  the  marquis  offered  Victur- 
nien his  old  servant  Josephin,  a  confidential  man,  who 
would  take  good  care  of  the  youth,  watch  faithfully 
over  his  interests,  and  of  whom  the  poor  father 
deprived  himself  for  the  sake  of  his  son. 


52  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"Remember,  my  son,"  he  said,  "that  you  are  a 
Carol,  that  your  blood  is  pure  from  all  contaminating 
alliances  ;  that  you  bear  for  your  device,  II  est  nostre! 
and  that  you  have  the  right  to  carry  your  head  high 
and  to  aspire  to  queens.  Give  thanks  to  your  father 
for  this,  as  I  did  to  mine.  We  owe  to  the  honor  of 
our  ancestors,  sacredly  preserved,  the  right  to  look  all 
men  in  the  face  and  bow  the  knee  to  none  but  a 
woman,  the  king,  and  God.  That  is  the  greatest  of 
our  privileges." 

The  worthy  Chesnel  was  present  at  the  parting 
breakfast.  He  did  not  take  part  in  the  heraldic  advice 
and  recommendations,  nor  in  the  letters  and  messages 
to  the  powers  of  the  day  ;  but  he  had  spent  the  previous 
night  in  writing  to  an  old  friend,  one  of  the  long- 
established  notaries  of  Paris,  in  the  interest  of  the 
young  man.  The  real  and  assumed  paternity  which 
Chesnel  felt  for  Victurnien  would  hardly  be  under- 
stood if  we  omitted  to  give  this  letter,  which  might  be 
compared  to  a  discourse  of  Daedalus  to  Icarus,  —  for 
must  we  not  go  back  to  mythology  to  find  comparisons 
worthy  of  this  man  of  a  past  age  ? 

My  dear  and  estimable  Sorbier,  —  I  remember 
with  joy  that  I  first  took  arms  in  our  honorable  career 
in  your  father's  office,  where  you  were  kind  to  me,  poor 
little  clerk  that  I  was  !  It  is  to  those  memories  of  our 
clerkly  days  that  I  address  myself  in  asking  the  only 
service  I  have  ever  yet  solicited  in  the  course  of  our 
long  friendship,  chequered  by  so  many  vicissitudes  and 
political  catastrophes. 

This   service  I  ask  of  you,  my  dear  friend,  on  the 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  53 

verge  of  the  grave,  in  the  name  of  my  white  hairs. 
Sorbier  !  it  does  not  relate  to  me  or  mine.  I  have  lost 
my  poor  Madame  Chesnel,  and  I  have  no  children. 
Alas !  it  concerns  something  more  to  me  than  my 
family,  if  I  had  one ;  it  concerns  the  only  son  of  the 
Marquis  d'Esgrignon,  whose  bailiff  I  had  the  honor 
to  be  when  I  left  your  father's  office,  where  the  mar- 
quis's father  had  placed  me  at  his  own  expense,  in 
order  to  give  me  a  career.  This  family,  which  I  may 
say  nurtured  me,  has  endured  all  the  evils  of  the  Rev- 
olution. I  was  able  to  save  part  of  its  property  ;  but 
what  was  that  compared  with  its  past  grandeur? 

Sorbier,  I  can  never  express  to  }tou  the  attachment 
I  feel  to  that  great  house  which  I  have  seen  almost 
engulfed  in  the  dreadful  ab}Tss  of  our  convulsions,  — 
proscription,  confiscation,  an  old  age  without  means ! 
How  many  sorrows  !  Monsieur  le  marquis  married, 
and  his  wife  died  in  giving  birth  to  the  }Toung  count ; 
there  is  nothing  left  really  alive  of  that  noble  family 
but  this  dear  and  precious  lad.  The  destinies  of  the 
house  rest  upon  him.  He  has  amused  himself,  he  has 
incurred  some  debts ;  for  what  can  be  done  even  in 
the  provinces  with  a  hundred  louis?  Yes,  my  friend, 
the  great  house  of  Esgrignon  has  come  to  that,  —  one 
hundred  louis ! 

In  this  extremity,  his  father  feels  the  necessity  of 
sending  him  to  Paris  to  claim  the  favor  of  the  king  at 
court.  Paris  is  a  dangerous  place  for  youth  ;  it  needs 
a  strong  supply  of  sense  to  live  there  virtuously. 

Besides,  it  would  grieve  me  to  think  of  that  poor 
child  deprived  of  the  means  of  appearing  as  he  ought. 
Do  you  remember  the  pleasure  with  which  you  shared 


54  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities, 

my  crust  when  we  stayed  in  Paris  a  day  and  night 
to  see  the  "  Mariage  de  Figaro"?  —  blind  young  ones 
that  we  were  !  We  were  happy  and  poor,  but  a  noble 
cannot  be  happy  in  poverty.  The  poverty  of  a  noble 
is  something  against  nature.  Ah,  Sorbier,  when  one 
has  had  the  joy  of  arresting  with  one's  own  hand  the 
fall  of  one  of  the  noblest  crenealoincal  trees  in  the 
kingdom,  it  is  so  natural  to  cling  to  it,  to  love  it,  to 
fertilize  it,  to  try  to  make  it  bud  again  !  You  will  not 
be  surprised,  will  you,  at  the  precautions  I  take,  and 
the  entreaty  I  now  send  you  to  assist  by  the  benefit  of 
your  advice  and  knowledge  the  career  in  Paris  of  this 
young  man  ? 

The  d'Esgrignon  family  have  obtained  the  sum  of  one 
hundred  thousand  francs  for  this  journey,  sixty  thousand 
of  which  I  will  remit  to  you.  You  will  see  the  count ; 
there  is  not  in  all  Paris  a  young  man  to  be  compared 
with  him.  You  will  be  interested  in  him,  I  know,  as  an 
only  son.  And  I  feel  certain  that  Madame  Sorbier  will 
assist  you  in  the  moral  guardianship  with  which  I  seek 
to  invest  you.  The  allowance  of  Comte  Victurnien  is 
fixed  at  two  thousand  francs  a  month  ;  but  you  must 
begin  by  giving  him  ten  thousand  to  meet  his  first  ex- 
penses. The  family  have  thus  provided  for  a  two  years' 
stay,  unless  some  foreign  journey  should  be  desirable, 
in  which  case  we  will  take  other  measures. 

My  dear  friend,  undertake  this  office,  I  beg  of  you. 
Hold  the  purse-strings  rather  tightly.  Without  ad- 
monishing Monsieur  le  comte,  restrain  him  as  much  as 
you  can  ;  and  do  not  let  him  anticipate  his  allowance 
from  month  to  month  without  strong  reasons, — of 
course  it  would  not  do  to  humiliate  him  in  any  case 
where  his  honor  might  be  involved. 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  55 

Watch  bis  proceedings,  find  out  what  he  does,  and 
where  he  goes  ;   above  all,  discover  his  relations  with 

women.     Monsieur   le  Chevalier  de tells  me  that 

women  of  the  court  will  often  make  a  man  spend  more 
money  than  a  ballet-girl.  Obtain  information  on  this 
point,  and  let  me  know  it.  Madame  Sorbier  might, 
if  you  are  too  busy,  discover  what  the  young  man 
does,  and  where  he  goes.  Perhaps  the  idea  of  being 
the  guardian  angel  of  so  noble  and  charming  a  youth 
may  please  her.  God  would  reward  her  for  fulfilling 
so  saintly  a  mission ;  it  may  touch  her  heart  to  think 
of  the  dangers  our  dear  young  count  will  run  in  Paris. 
You  will  see  him ;  he  is  as  handsome  as  the  day,  as 
gay  as  he  is  confiding.  Should  he  connect  himself 
with  some  evil-minded  woman,  Madame  Sorbier  might 
warn  him  of  the  danger  he  incurs  even  better  than  }tou 
could  do.  An  old  servant  goes  with  him  who  can  tell 
you  many  things.  Question  Josephin ;  I  have  told 
him  to  consult  you  in  all  delicate  emergencies. 

But  why  say  more?  You  and  I  have  been  clerks 
and  scamps  together ;  remember  our  many  escapades, 
and  return,  my  old  friend,  to  the  days  of  our  youth 
for  the  sake  of  this  young  man.  The  sixty  thousand 
francs  will  be  remitted  to  you  in  a  treasury  note  by  a 
gentleman  of  this  town,  who  is  about  to  go  to  Paris. 
Etc.,  etc. 

If  the  worthy  Sorbiers  had  followed  Chesnel's  in- 
structions, they  would  have  been  obliged  to  keep  three 
spies  night  and  daj^  to  watch  Comte  d'Esgrignon.  Yet 
the  choice  made  by  Chesnel  of  the  hands  in  which  to 
deposit   the    money   was    a   wise    one.     A    banker,  of 


56  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

course,  pays  out  the  money  in  his  hands  (as  long  as 
there  is  any)  to  whoever  keeps  an  account  at  the  bank  ; 
whereas  the  young  count  when  he  needed  funds  would 
be  forced  to  go  to  the  notary,  who  had  the  right  to 
withhold  the  money  and  also  to  remonstrate. 

Victurnien  could  scarcely  restrain  his  joy  on  hearing 
that  he  was  to  have  two  thousand  francs  a  month.  He 
knew  nothing  of  Paris,  and  supposed  that  sum  would 
enable  him  to  live  like  princes. 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  57 


IV. 


victurnien's  dlbut. 


The  young  count  started,  followed  by  the  prayers 
and  benedictions  of  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  having 
been  embraced  by  the  dowagers,  loaded  with  good 
wishes,  and  accompanied  beyond  the  town  by  his  old 
father,  his  aunt,  and  Chesnel,  all  three  with  tears  in 
their  eyes.  This  sudden  departure  formed  the  one 
topic  of  discourse  for  several  evenings  in  the  various 
societies  of  the  town,  but  more  especially  in  the  inimi- 
cal salon  of  du  Croisier.  Having  sworn  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  d'Esgrignon  family,  the  purveyor  and  the 
chief-justice  and  their  adherents  saw  their  prey  slipping 
through  their  fingers.  Their  vengeance  had  clung  to 
a  hope  founded  on  the  vices  of  the  young  spendthrift, 
who  was  now  beyond  their  reach. 

A  natural  tendency  of  the  human  mind,  which  some- 
times makes  a  depraved  woman  of  the  daughter  of  a 
devote,  and  a  devote  of  the  daughter  of  an  unworthy 
mother,  the  law  of  contraries,  —  which  is  no  doubt  the 
resultant  of  the  law  of  similars,  —  drew  Victurnien 
toward  Paris  by  a  desire  to  which,  sooner  or  later,  he 
would  surely  have  succumbed.  Brought  up  in  a  pro- 
vincial home,  surrounded  by  gentle,  tranquil  faces  that 
smiled  upon  him,  by  servants  gravely  affectionate  to 
their  masters,  all  in  keeping  with  the  antique  tones  of 


58  The  G-allery  of  Antiquities. 

that  old  dwelling,  the  lad  had  seen  none  but  persons 
worthy  of  respect  and  veneration.  Except  the  worldly 
old  Chevalier,  all  those  who  surrounded  him  were  com- 
posed in  manner,  and  their  talk  was  decent  and  becom- 
ing. He  had  been  petted  by  those  women  in  gray 
gowns  and  silk  mittens  that  Blondet  has  described  to  us. 
The  interior  of  his  father's  house  was  decorated  with 
an  old-fashioned  luxury  which  inspired  no  lavish  de- 
sires. Taught  by  an  excellent  abbe  who  was  free 
from  cant  and  full  of  that  amenity  of  old  men  of  a 
past  age  who  bring  into  ours  the  dried  rose-leaves  of 
their  experience  and  the  pressed  flowers  of  the  customs 
of  their  own  youth,  Victurnien,  whom  every  influence 
should  have  trained  to  serious  habits,  whom  all  things 
urged  to  continue  the  glory  of  an  historic  house  by 
taking  life  as  a  grand  and  noble  thing, — Victurnien 
listened  to  none  but  the  most  dangerous  notions. 

He  saw  in  his  nobility  simply  a  stepping-stone  made 
to  raise  him  above  his  fellows.  Tapping  that  idol  so 
worshipped  in  his  paternal  home,  he  found  it  hollow. 
He  had  become,  young  as  he  was,  that  most  horrible 
of  social  beings  and  the  commonest  to  be  met  with, 
a  consistent  egotist.  Led  bv  the  aristocratic  religion 
of  the  /  to  follow  his  fancies,  indulged  by  those  who 
had  charge  of  his  childhood  and  by  the  first  companions 
of  his  youthful  follies,  he  had  come  by  this  time  to 
estimate  all  things  solely  by  the  pleasure  that  they 
gave  him,  and  to  see  kind  souls  repairing  his  misdeeds, 
—  a  dangerous  compliance  which  was  certain  to  injure 
him.  His  education,  though  excellent  and  pious,  had 
the  defect  of  keeping  him  too  isolated,  of  hiding  from  his 
knowledge  the  spirit  and  ways  of  the  life  of  his  epoch, 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  59 

—  which  were  certainty  not  those  of  a  provincial  town, 
above  which  his  true  destiny  led  him.  He  had  con- 
tracted the  habit  of  not  estimating  a  fact  at  its  broad 
social  value,  but  by  its  relative  value  to  himself ;  he 
thought  his  actions  good  according  to  their  personal 
utility.  Like  other  despots,  he  made  his  laws  to  suit  his 
circumstances,  —  a  system  which  is  to  vicious  actions 
what  fancy  is  to  works  of  art,  a  perpetual  cause  of 
irregularities.  Gifted  with  a  very  piercing  and  rapid 
perception,  he  saw  clearly  and  justly,  but  he  acted 
hastily  and  ill. 

There  was  something  incomplete  about  Victurnien 
which  cannot  be  explained,  but  is  often  met  with  in 
young  men, — something  which  affected  his  conduct. 
In  spite  of  his  active  powers  of  thought,  so  sudden  in  its 
manifestations,  let  sensation  speak,  and  the  darkened 
brain  seemed  no  longer  to  exist.  He  was  capable  of 
surprising  a  wise  man,  and  equally  capable  of  pleasing 
a  fool.  His  desire,  like  the  rising  of  a  tiny  storm-cloud, 
overspread  in  a  moment  the  clear  and  lucid  spaces  of 
his  brain ;  then,  after  periods  of  dissipation  against 
which  he  felt  himself  powerless,  he  would  drop  into 
such  depressions  of  mind  and  heart  and  body,  such 
utter  prostrations,  as  to  be  for  the  time  being  semi- 
imbecile.  Such  a  nature  must  inevitably  lead  a  man 
into  the  mire  if  he  is  left  to  himself ;  or  it  will  take 
him  to  the  summits  of  life  and  power  if  he  is  supported 
by  the  hand  of  a  pitiless  friend.  Neither  Chesnel,  nor 
the  father,  nor  the  aunt  had  ever  fathomed  that  soul, 
which  held  by  several  of  its  corners  to  greatness  and 
poesy,  but  was  cursed  with  a  truly  awful  weakness  at 
its  centre. 


60  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

When  Victurnien  had  driven  a  few  leagues  from  his 
native  town,  he  ceased  to  feel  any  regrets  over  the 
parting ;  he  thought  no  more  of  his  old  father,  who 
cherished  him  as  the  darling  of  ten  generations,  or  of 
his  aunt,  whose  devotion  was  almost  insanity.  He 
longed  for  Paris  with  passionate  violence ;  it  was  the 
fairyland  of  his  dreams,  the  scene  of  his  most  glorious 
visions.  He  expected  to  reign  there  as  he  reigned  in 
his  native  town  and  in  the  department,  through  the 
name  of  his  father.  Filled,  not  with  pride,  but  with 
vanity,  his  expectations  of  enjoyment  grew  to  the  pro- 
portions of  the  great  city.  He  crossed  the  intervening 
distance  rapidly.  His  carriage,  like  his  thought,  made 
no  delay  in  its  transition  between  the  limited  horizon 
of  his  province  and  the  vast  unbounded  world  of  the 
capital. 

The  count  took  up  his  quarters  in  the  rue  cle  Richelieu, 
in  a  fine  hotel  near  the  boulevard,  and  hastened  to  take 
possession  of  Paris  as  a  famished  horse  rushes  to  grass. 
He  soon  distinguished  the  difference  between  the  two 
regions.  Surprised  more  than  intimidated,  he  recog- 
nized, with  the  natural  quickness  of  his  mind,  how 
little  of  a  person  he  was  in  the  midst  of  that  vast 
Babylonian  world,  and  how  foolish  he  should  be  to  put 
himself  in  opposition  to  the  ideas  and  ways  of  the  new 
S37stem.     One  fact  was  enough  to  convince  him  :  — 

On  his  first  evening  in  Paris,  he  took  his  father's 
letter  to  the  Due  de  Lenoncourt,  one  of  the  seigneurs 
most  in  favor  with  the  king.  He  found  him  in  his 
magnificent  hotel,  in  the  midst  of  aristocratic  splendor; 
but  the  next  day  he  met  him  on  the  boulevard,  on  foot, 
with  an  umbrella  under  his  arm,  and  no  distinctive  sign 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  61 

of  rank,  not  even  the  blue  ribbon,  which  in  former 
days  a  chevalier  of  the  orders  would  never  have  laid 
aside.  This  duke  and  peer,  first  gentleman  of  the 
Bedchamber,  had  not  been  able  to  restrain  a  smile, 
notwithstanding  his  lofty  politeness,  on  reading  the 
letter  of  his  relation  the  marquis.  That  smile  in- 
formed Victurnien  that  there  was  more  than  sixty 
leagues  between  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities  and  the 
Tuileries,  —  a  distance,  in  fact,  of  several  centuries. 

At  each  epoch  the  throne  and  the  court  surround 
themselves  with  favorite  families  who  bear  no  resem- 
blance in  name  or  character  to  those  of  other  reigns. 
In  that  sphere  it  seems  as  though  it  were  the  condition 
and  not  the  individual  which  is  perpetuated.  If  his- 
tory were  not  at  hand  to  prove  this  observation,  it 
would  be  incredible.  The  court  of  Louis  XVIII.  was 
at  this  time  bringing  into  relief  men  who  were  almost 
strangers  to  those  who  surrounded  Louis  XV.  ;  take, 
for  instance,  such  names  as  Riviere,  Blacas,  Avaray, 
Dam  bray,  Vaublanc,  Vitrolles,  d'Autichamp,  Laroche- 
jaquelin,  Pasquier,  Decazes,  Laine,  de  Villele,  La 
Bourdon naye,  etc.  If  you  compare  the  court  of  Henri 
IV.  with  that  of  Louis  XIV.,  you  will  not  find  six  great 
families  holding  over.  Villeroy,  the  favorite  of  Louis 
XIV.,  was  the  grandson  of  a  secretary  who  came  to 
the  surface  under  Charles  IX.  Richelieu's  nephew 
was  of  almost  no  account.  The  d'Esgrignons,  quasi- 
princes  under  the  Valois,  and  all-powerful  under  Henri 
IV.,  had  no  chance  at  all  at  the  court  of  Louis  XVIII. , 
who  did  not  even  think  of  them.  To-day,  names  as 
illustrious  as  those  of  sovereign  houses,  like  that  of 
Foix-Grailly  and   Herouville,   are,  for  want  of  money 


62  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

(the  only  power  in  our  time),  in  an  obscurity  equiva- 
lent to  extinction. 

As  soon  as  Victurnien  bad  formed  his  opinion  of 
this  new  society,  — and  he  judged  it  only  from  the  so- 
cial point  of  view,  —  feeling  himself  injured  by  Parisian 
equality,  a  monster  which  devoured  under  the  Restora- 
tion the  last  morsel  of  the  old  social  order,  he  re- 
solved to  win  a  position  with  the  dangerous,  though 
blunted  weapons  which  the  present  age  allowed  to 
the  nobility.  He  imitated  the  habits  and  ways  of  those 
to  whom  Paris  accorded  its  costly  attention ;  he  felt 
the  necessity,  in  default  of  the  prestige  of  name,  to 
acquire  the  prestige  of  display ;  he  wanted  horses, 
fine  carriages,  all  the  accessories  of  modern  luxury. 
As  de  Marsay,  the  first  dandy  to  whom  he  was  intro- 
duced, told  him,  he  felt  he  must  "  put  himself  on  the 
level  of  his  times." 

Unhappily  for  him,  he  fell  into  the  ranks  of  Parisian 
men  of  the  world,  such  as  de  Marsay,  Ronquerolles, 
Maxime  de  Trailles,  Lupeaulx,  Rastignac,  Vandenesse, 
Adjuda-Pinto,  Beaudenord,  La  Roche-Hugon,  Maner- 
ville,  —  all  men  whom  he  found  at  the  houses  of  the 
Marquise  d'Espard  and  de  Listomere,  the  Duchesse  de 
Grandlieu,  de  Carigliano,  de  Chaulieu,  Madame  Fir- 
miani,  the  Comtesse  de  Serizy,  at  the  Opera,  at 
the  embassies ;  in  short,  wherever  his  name  and  his 
apparent  wealth  made  him  welcome.  In  Paris  a  noble 
name  recognized  by  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain  (which 
knows  its  provinces  by  heart)  is  a  passport  that  opens 
doors  which  will  not  turn  upon  their  hinges  for 
strangers,  or  members  of  a  secondary  society.  Victur- 
nien found  his  relations  and  those  to  whom  his  father 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  63 

recommended  him  extremely  amiable  and  friendly  as 
soon  as  they  saw  that  he  did  not  solicit  favors.  He 
had  seen  at  once  with  his  quick  observation  that 
the  way  to  obtain  nothing  was  to  ask  for  something. 
Pride,  vanity,  self-esteem,  all  the  good  as  well  as  the 
evil  sentiments  of  the  young  man,  led  him  to  assume  an 
independent  attitude.  The  Dues  de  Verneuil,  d'He- 
rouville,  Lenoncourt,  Chaulieu,  Grandlieu,  and  the 
Princes  de  Cadignan  and  Blamont-Chauvry  were  all 
ready,  the  moment  they  found  he  made  no  claims,  to 
present  to  the  king  this  handsome  relic  of  an  ancient 
family. 

Victurnien  went  to  the  Tuileries  in  a  handsome  equi- 
page with  the  arms  of  his  family  on  its  panels ;  but 
his  presentation  proved  to  him  immediately  that  the 
people  occupied  the  mind  of  the  king  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  nobility.  He  suddenly  divined  the  helotism  to 
which  the  Restoration,  clogged  with  its  old  deputies 
and  its  old  courtiers,  had  condemned  the  }7outli  of  the 
French  nobility.  He  saw  plainly  that  there  was  no 
place  for  him  either  at  court,  or  in  the  State,  or  in 
the  army,  —  in  short,  anywhere.  Consequently,  he 
threw  himself  with  all  the  more  eagerness  into  a  life 
of  pleasure.  Invited  to  the  Elysee-Bourbon,  to  the 
salons  of  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme,  to  the  Pavilion 
Marsan,  he  received  everywhere  that  superficial  polite- 
ness which  was  due  to  the  heir  of  an  old  family  re- 
membered only  when  seen.  Even  that  slight  memory 
was  something,  and  it  might  perhaps  have  led  to  a 
good  marriage  and  the  peerage  in  due  course  of  time ; 
but  Yicturnien's  vanity  kept  him  from  making  his  posi- 
tion plain.     He  chose  to  remain  under  the   panoply  of 


64  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

false  opulence.  He  was,  moreover,  so  complimented 
on  his  style,  his  carriages,  his  horses,  he  was  so  proud 
of  his  first  success,  that  a  shame  not  endurable  to 
young  men,  —  the  shame  of  abdicating,  —  counselled 
him  to  maintain  his  position.  He  therefore  took  an 
apartment  in  the  rue  du  Bac,  with  a  stable,  coach-house, 
and  all  the  accompaniments  of  the  life  of  elegance  to 
which  he  found  himself  relegated. 

This  putting  himself,  as  it  were,  on  the  stage  of 
Parisian  fashionable  life,  required  an  outlay  of  fifty 
thousand  francs ;  and  the  young  count  obtained  that 
sum,  in  spite  of  the  precautions  of  the  wise  old  notary, 
through  a  series  of  unforeseen  circumstances.  Chesnel's 
letter  reached  the  office  of  his  brother  notary,  but  the 
latter  was  dead.  Seeing  that  the  letter  was  on  busi- 
ness, the  widow,  a  matter-of-fact  person,  turned  it 
over  to  her  husband's  successor,  Maitre  Cardot,  the  new 
notary,  who  told  the  count  that  the  treasury  note  for 
sixty  thousand  francs  enclosed  in  Chesnel's  letter,  being 
to  the  order  of  his  predecessor,  was  void.  In  reply  to 
the  carefully  meditated  epistle  of  the  old  provincial 
notary,  Maitre  Cardot  wrote  Chesnel  three  lines.  In 
reply,  Chesnel  drew  the  note  to  the  order  of  the  young 
notary,  who,  not  espousing  the  sentimentality  of  his 
correspondent,  and  delighted  to  oblige  a  Comte  d'Es- 
grignon,  gave  Victurnien  all  he  wanted. 

Those  who  know  Paris  are  aware  that  fifty  thousand 
francs  does  not  provide  an  unlimited  amount  of  fur- 
niture, equipages,  horses,  and  elegance  of  all  kinds ; 
and  they  will  not  be  astonished  to  hear  that  Victurnien 
was  immediately  in  debt  to  his  tradespeople  to  the 
further  amount  of  some  twenty  thousand  francs,  the 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  65 

tradesmen  in  the  first  instance  not  being  desirous  of 
payment  from  a  rich  young  man ;  his  fortune  having 
swelled  immensely  in  public  opinion,  assisted  by  Jose- 
phin,  a  species  of  Chesnel  in  livery. 

A  month  after  his  arrival,  Victurnien  was  obliged 
to  take  the  last  ten  thousand  francs  from  his  notary. 
He  had  merely  played  whist  at  the  houses  of  the  Dues 
de  Lenoncourt,  Cbaulieu,  Navarreins,  and  at  the  club. 
After  winning  some  thousands,  he  lost  several  thou- 
sands more,  and  felt  the  necessity  of  making  himself  a 
card  fund.  Victurnien  had  the  sort  of  cleverness  which 
pleases  society  and  enables  a  young  man  of  good  family 
to  put  himself  on  a  level  with  all  whom  he  meets.  Not 
only,  therefore,  was  he  admitted  as  a  personage  into  the 
ranks  of  the  gilded  youth  of  Paris,  but  he  was  greatly 
envied  there.  When  he  felt  himself  an  object  of  envy, 
his  satisfaction  was  too  intoxicating  to  allow  him  to 
think  of  retrenchment.  He  became,  in  that  respect, 
beside  himself :  he  would  not  even  think  of  ways  and 
means ;  he  put  his  hand  into  his  sack  as  if  it  were  sure 
of  being  replenished,  and  forbade  himself  to  reflect  on 
what  would  be  the  end  of  such  a  s}Tstem. 

A  young  man  like  Victurnien,  introduced  by  the 
leading  powers  of  the  faubourg  Saint-Germain,  to 
whom  these  protectors  themselves  attributed  a  fortune 
superior  by  far  to  what  he  really  had ;  in  short,  a 
marriageable  count,  a  handsome  man.  witty  and  bien 
peasant,  that  is  to  say,  of  royalist  opinions,  and  whose 
father  still  possessed  the  estates  of  his  marquisate  and 
the  hereditary  chateau, — such  a  young  man  was  cer- 
tain to  be  well  received  in  houses  where  there  were  idle 
and  bored  young  women,  mothers  with  daughters  to 

5 


66  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

marry,  or  handsome  partners  without  a  dot.  Society 
therefore  welcomed  him,  smiling,  to  the  front  benches 
of  her  theatre,  —  benches  that  the  marquises  of  the 
olden  time  were  wont  to  occupy  on  the  stage  of  Paris, 
where  names  alone  are  changed,  not  things. 

Victurnien  found,  in  the  society  of  the  faubourg  Saint- 
Germain,  the  double  of  the  old  Chevalier  in  the  person 
of  the  Vidame  de  Pamiers.  The  vidame  was  a  Cheva- 
lier de  Valois,  raised  to  the  tenth  rank,  surrounded  by 
the  prestige  of  fortune,  and  enjoying  the  advantages 
of  a  really  high  position.  The  dear  vidame  was  the 
repository  of  secrets,  the  gazette  of  the  faubourg ; 
discreet  withal,  and,  like  other  gazettes,  never  saying 
anything  but  what  might  safely  be  published.  Victur- 
nien heard  once  more  from  the  lips  of  the  vidame  the 
doctrines  of  the  Chevalier  ;  the  old  gentleman  told  him, 
without  mincing  his  language,  to  choose  his  mistresses 
among  well-bred  women,  and  he  recounted  to  him  his 
own  youthful  exploits.  What  the  Vidame  de  Pamiers 
permitted  himself  to  do  in  those  days  is  so  entirely 
outside  of  our  modern  manners  and  morals,  in  which 
soul  and  passion  play  so  large  a  part,  that  it  is  useless 
to  relate  these  things  to  persons  who  would  never 
believe  them. 

However,  the  vidame  did  something  more  useful 
than  bestow  his  advice ;  he  said  to  Victurnien  by  way 
of  conclusion  :  — 

"  I  invite  you  to  dinner  to-morrow  at  an  eating- 
house.  Afterwards  we  will  go  to  the  Opera  to  digest, 
and  then  I  '11  take  you  to  a  salon  where  you  will  find 
a  number  of  persons  who  are  all  desirous  of  meeting 
you." 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  67 

The  vidame  gave  him  a  delicious  dinner  at  the 
Rocher  de  Cancale,  where  he  found  only  three  other 
guests,  —  de  Marsay,  Rastignac,  and  Blondet.  Emile 
Blondet  was  a  compatriot  of  the  young  count,  a  writer 
who  had  entered  the  upper  ranks  of  society  through 
his  intimacy  with  a  charming  young  woman  also  from 
Victurnien's  province,  — a  Demoiselle  de  Troisville  mar- 
ried to  the  Comte  de  Montcornet,  one  of  Napoleon's 
generals  who  had  since  gone  over  to  the  Bourbons. 
The  vidame  professed  a  great  dislike  for  dinners  of 
more  than  six  persons.  According  to  him,  there  could 
be  no  conversation,  no  cooking,  no  wines  properly 
understood  and  enjo}7ed  with  a  greater  number. 

"  I  have  n't  yet  told  you  where  I  shall  take  you  this 
evening,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said,  taking  Victurnien's 
hand  and  tapping  it.  "  You  are  to  go  to  the  house  of 
Mademoiselle  des  Touches,  where  you  will  find  a 
little  company  of  young  and  pretty  women  who  all 
have  pretensions  to  intellect.  Literature,  art,  poesy, 
in  short,  all  the  talents,  are  there  held  in  honor.  It  is 
one  of  our  old  circles  of  wit  and  cleverness,  though 
lately  varnished  with  the  new  monarchical  morality,  the 
livery  of  these  days." 

"  As  fatiguing  and  trying  occasionally  as  new  boots," 
said  de  Marsay,  "  but  women  are  present  whom  we 
have  no  chance  to  speak  to  elsewhere." 

"  If  all  the  poets  who  trot  out  their  muses  in  that 
house  were  like  Blondet,"  said  Rastignac,  tapping 
familiarly  on  his  friend's  shoulder,  "  we  might  be  very 
well  amused  there.  But  odes,  ballads,  meditations 
on  petty  sentiments,  romances  with  wide  margins,  infest 
the  brains  and  the  sofas  too  much  as  a  general  thing." 


68  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 


u 


Well,  provided  they  don't  spoil  the  women  and  do 
corrupt  the  young  girls,  I  don't  dislike  them,"  said  de 
Marsay. 

"Messieurs,"  said  Blondet,  laughing,  "don't  poach 
on  my  ground." 

"  Your  ground!  why,  you  have  come  upon  ours,  and 
taken  possession  of  the  most  charming  woman  in 
society,"  cried  Rastiguac  ;  "  we  can  take  what  we  please 
from  you." 

"  Ah!  he's  a  lucky  dog,"  said  the  vidame,  twisting 
Blondet's  ear;  "  but  Victurnien  may  perhaps  be  another 
this  evening." 

"  Already  !  "  cried  de  Marsay  ;  "  why,  he  has  n't  had 
time  to  shake  off  the  dust  of  his  old  manor,  or  get  rid 
of  the  brine  in  which  his  aunt  pickled  him ;  he  has  only 
just  got  a  passable  English  horse,  a  tilbury,  and  a 
groom." 

"No,  he  hasn't  even  a  groom,"  said  Rastignac, 
interrupting  de  Marsay  ;  "  he  has  a  queer  little  peasant, 
brought  from  remote  regions,  whom  Buisson  the  tailor, 
being  employed  to  make  him  a  livery,  declares  inca- 
pable of  wearing  a  jacket." 

"  The  fact  is,  you  ought  all,"  said  the  vidame, 
gravely,  "to  model  yourselves  on  Beaudenord,  who 
has  the  advantage  over  the  whole  of  you,  my  little 
friends,  in  possessing  a  real  English  tiger." 

"  So,"  cried  Victurnien,  "  it  is  to  this  that  the  gentle- 
men of  France  have  come !  To  them  the  greatest  of 
all  questions  is  to  have  an  English  horse,  a  tiger,  and 


gewgaws ! ' 


"Hey-day!  "  cried  Blondet,  pointing  to  Victurnien, 
"  the  good  sense  of  some  men  is  truly  awful.     Yes, 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  69 

young  moralist,  you  are  right.  We  have  n't  even,  like 
our  dear  vidame,  the  credit  of  the  life  that  made  him 
famous  some  fifty  years  ago.  No  war  with  cardinals, 
no  Field  of  the  Cloth  of  Gold.  Even  you,  Comte  d'Es- 
grignon,  —  you  are  dining  with  a  Sieur  Blondet,  young- 
est son  of  a  poor  little  provincial  judge,  with  whom 
you  would  n't  shake  hands  in  your  own  province,  but 
who  may  possibly  take  his  seat  beside  you  ten  years 
hence  among  the  peers  of  France.  After  that,  believe 
in  your  heaven-born  rights,  if  you  can." 

"Weil,"'  said  Rastignac,  "we  have  passed  from 
facts  to  ideas,  from  brute  force  to  intellectual  strength ; 
we  speak  —  " 

"  Now  don't  talk  of  our  disasters,"  cried  the  vidame. 
"  I  am  determined  to  die  gayly.  If  our  friend  has  n't 
a  tiger,  he  comes  of  a  race  of  lions,  and  that  will  do 
as  well." 

"No,  he  can't  do  without  a  tiger,"  said  Blondet; 
"he  is  too  much  of  a  new-comer." 

"  Never  mind  :  though  his  elegance  is  rather  fresh,  we 
adopt  him,"  said  de  Marsay.  "  He  is  worthy  of  us  :  he 
understands  his  epoch ;  he  has  wit ;  he  is  noble,  also 
agreeable.  We  like  him  ;  we  will  serve  him ;  we  will 
push  him  —  " 

"  Where?"  said  Blondet. 

"  Inquisitive  !  "  exclaimed  Rastignac. 

"  Whom  will  he  meet  to-night?"  asked  de  Marsay. 

"Oh,  the  whole  seraglio,"  replied  the  vidame. 

After  the  dinner,  which  was  very  lively  on  the  key 
of  social  gossip  and  elegant  corruption,  Rastignac 
and  de  Marsay  accompanied  the  vidame  and  Victurnien 
to  the  Opera,  intending  to  follow  them  later  to  the  salon 


70  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

of  Mademoiselle  des  Touches,  where  the  two  roues  pre- 
ferred to  make  their  appearance  at  an  hour  when,  accord- 
ing to  their  calculations,  the  reading  of  a  certain  tragedy 
would  be  over,  —  an  exercise  of  the  mind  which  they 
considered  most  unwholesome  between  the  hours  of 
eleven  o'clock  and  midnight.  They  really  went  to 
watch  Victurnien  and  embarrass  him  by  their  presence, 
—  a  bit  of  true  schoolboy  mischief,  envenomed,  how- 
ever, by  the  gall  of  jealous  dandyism. 

Victurnien  had  by  nature  that  species  of  youthful 
boldness  which  helps  to  ease  of  manner.  Watching 
the  new-comer  to  the  great  world,  Rastignac  was 
surprised  to  see  his  quick  imitation  of  the  manners  of 
the  day. 

"That  little  d'Esgrignon  will  go  far,"  he  said  to 
his  companion. 

"  That's  as  it  may  be,"  replied  de  Marsay ;  "  but  at 
any  rate,  he  goes  well  now." 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  71 


V. 


THE    DUCHESSE    DE    MAUFRIGNEUSE. 

The  vidame  presented  the  young  count  to  one  of  the 
most  amiable,  but  also  the  most  volatile  of  the  duchesses 
of  that  period,  whose  adventures  did  not,  however, 
explode  upon  the  public  ear  until  five  years  later.  In 
all  the  brilliancy  of  her  fame,  suspected  even  now  of 
certain  levities  that  were  never  proved,  she  gained  the 
notoriety  which  Parisian  calumny  lends  to  women  as  it 
does  to  men  ;  calumny,  be  it  said,  does  not  meddle  with 
mediocrities,  who,  for  their  parts,  would  rather  not 
live  in  such  peace. 

This  person  was  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse, 
born  an  Uxelles,  whose  father-in-law  was  still  living, 
and  who  was  therefore  not  Princesse  de  Cadignan  till 
some  years  later.  A  friend  of  the  Duchesse  de  Lan- 
geais,  and  also  of  the  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant,  two 
orbs  who  had  renounced  society  and  disappeared,  she 
was  also  intimate  with  the  Marquise  d'Espard,  whom  at 
this  moment  she  was  proceeding  to  dispossess  of  the 
frail  royalty  of  fashion.  Her  widespread  and  very 
important  connections  protected  her  for  a  long  time ; 
but  the  duchess  belonged  to  the  class  of  women  who, 
without  its  being  known  in  what  way,  where,  and  how 
they  do  it,  will  spend  all  the  revenues  of  earth  and 
those  of  the  moon,  if  they  could  get  them.     Her  char- 


72  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

acter  was  as  yet  scarcely  known ;  de  Marsay  alone  had 
fathomed  it.  Seeing  the  vidame  leading  Victurnien  up 
to  this  charming  personage,  the  redoubtable  dandy 
stooped  to  Rastignac's  ear  and  said,  — 

k'  He'll  be  uist!"  giving  a  long  whistle  like  a  coach- 
man's cat-call. 

That  horribly  vulgar  word  expressed  admirably  the 
elements  of  the  passion  which  now  ensued.  The 
Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse,  after  seriously  studying 
Victurnien,  was  bewitched  by  him.  The  angelic  look 
of  thanks  which  she  gave  to  the  vidame  would  have 
made  a  lover  jealous,  could  he  have  seen  it ;  but 
women  are  like  horses  let  loose  on  a  steppe  when  they 
find  themselves,  as  the  duchess  did,  in  presence  of  a 
man  like  the  vidame,  —  that  is,  on  ground  without  dan- 
ger. They  are  then  wholly  natural ;  in  fact,  they  like 
to  give  out  specimens  of  their  inward  tenderness.  The 
look  was  discreet,  from  eye  to  eye,  not  reflected  in  any 
mirror,  and  no  one  could  possibly  intercept  it. 

"  How  she  has  armed  herself  !  "  said  llastignac  to  de 
Marsay.  "  Look  at  that  girlish  gown  ;  what  swanlike 
grace  in  that  snowy  neck  !  what  an  air  of  inviolate 
purity !  See  that  innocent  white  fichu  with  its  baby 
belt !  Who  would  ever  suppose  you  had  been  her 
lover  ? "  % 

"That  is  what  makes  her  what  she  is,"  said  de 
Marsay,  with  an  air  of  triumph. 

The  young  men  smiled.  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse 
detected  the  smile  and  guessed  their  discourse.  She 
gave  the  two  roue's  a  glance  such  as  Frenchwomen 
knew  nothing  of  before  the  peace,  —  glances  which  were 
imported  into  France  by  Englishwomen,  together  with 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  73 

English  plate,  English  harnesses,  horses,  and  mounds 
of  Britannic  ice,  which  congeals  a  salon  the  moment  a 
certain  number  of  those  ladies  of  the  isle  are  in  it. 
The  two  young  men  grew  serious  as  clerks  who  expect 
a  present  after  their  director  has  delivered  them  a 
lecture. 

In  pretending  to  fall  in  love  with  Victurnien,  the 
duchess  proposed  to  herself  to  play  the  part  of  the 
romantic  Agnes,  —  a  part  which  several  women  have 
imitated,  to  the  great  detriment  of  the  youth  of  our 
day.  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse  improvised  herself  an 
angel  for  the  present  moment,  very  much  as  she  in- 
tended to  take  to  literature  and  science  when  she 
reached  the  forties,  in  preference  to  taking  to  religion. 
She  made  it  a  point  to  resemble  no  one.  She  per- 
formed her  own  part,  invented  her  own  gowns,  hats, 
bonnets,  opinions,  and  methods  of  behavior.  After  her 
marriage,  and  while  still  a  mere  girl,  she  pLayed  the 
knowing  and  almost  perverted  woman ;  she  permitted 
herself  certain  speeches  which  were  compromising 
enough  to  superficial  persons,  but  only  proved  her 
ignorance  to  men  of  the  world. 

As  the  period  of  her  marriage,  which  was  well- 
known,  prevented  her  from  subtracting  a  single  little 
year  from  her  age,  and  as  she  was  now  twenty-six 
years  old,  it  occurred  to  her  to  make  herself  an  immacu- 
late being.  She  seemed  to  be  hardly  of  this  earth  ;  she 
shook  her  large  sleeves  (then  the  fashion)  as  though 
they  were  wings.  Her  glance  flew  upward  to  heaven 
at  a  word,  an  idea,  a  look  too  ardent.  The  Madonna 
of  Piola  —  a  great  Genoese  painter,  stabbed  out  of 
jealousy    at   the   moment   when    he   was    becoming   a 


74  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

second  Raffaelle —  that  Madonna  of  infinite  purity, 
whom  we  can  hardly  see  behind  her  glass  in  the  little 
street  in  Genoa,  was  a  Messalina  compared  to  the 
Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse.  Women  asked  themselves 
how  it  was  that  the  giddy  young  woman  had  become, 
by  means  of  one  gown,  the  veiled  seraph  who,  to  use  a 
simile  then  in  vogue,  seemed  to  have  a  soul  as  white 
as  the  last  Alpine  snowfall  on  the  highest  peaks.  How 
had  she  managed  to  solve  the  Jesuitical  problem  of 
showing  a  bosom  whiter  even  than  her  soul,  while 
hiding  it  under  gauze ;  how  could  she  make  herself  so 
immaterial  and  yet  let  her  glances  glide  about  her  in 
so  killing  a  way?  She  seemed  to  be  promising  a  thou- 
sand delights  to  the  senses,  while  an  ascetic  sigh  for 
the  better  life  issued  from  her  lips.  Some  innocent 
young  fellows,  and  there  were  some  at  that  epoch  in 
the  Royal  guard,  asked  themselves  if  in  moments  of 
the  closest  intimacy  that  White  lady,  that  sidereal 
vapor  fallen  from  the  Milky  Way,  could  ever  be  spoken 
to  familiarly. 

This  system,  which  had  a  vogue  of  several  years, 
was  very  advantageous  to  women  whose  charming 
bosoms  were  lined  with  stout  philosophy,  and  who  con- 
cealed certain  pressing  exigencies  beneath  these  saintly 
manners.  Not  one  of  those  celestial  creatures  was 
unaware  of  the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  the  love  of 
a  well-born  man  desirous  of  recalling  them  to  earth. 
The  application  of  this  system,  divined  by  de  Marsay, 
explains  his  last  speech  to  Rastignac,  whom  he  saw  on 
the  point  of  becoming  jealous  of  Victurnien. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "  stay  where  you  are. 
Nucingen  will  make  your  fortune  ;  but  the  Duchesse  de 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  75 

Maufrigneuse  would  ruin  you.  That  woman  is  alto- 
gether too  dear." 

Rastignac  let  de  Marsav  leave  him  without  another 
word  :  he  knew  his  Paris.  He  knew  that  the  most 
precieuse,  noblest,  and  most  disinterested  woman  in  the 
world,  one  who  can  hardly  be  brought  to  accept  a  bou- 
quet, often  becomes  as  dangerous  to  a  young  man  as 
the  opera-girls  of  the  olden  time.  In  fact,  opera-girls 
have  now  passed  into  the  condition  of  myths.  The 
present  manners  and  morals  of  a  theatre  make  the 
danseuses  and  actresses  connected  with  it  about  as 
amusing  as  a  declaration  of  women's  rights :  virtuous 
and  respectable  mothers  of  family  may  be  seen  trund- 
ling their  babies  in  the  morning  and  showing  their  legs 
in  tights  or  trousers  at  night. 

In  the  depths  of  his  provincial  office,  the  worthy 
Chesnel  had  foreseen  at  least  one  of  the  reefs  on  which 
the  young  count  might  be  wrecked.  The  poetic  halo 
with  which  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse  crowned  herself 
completely  dazzled  Victurnien,  who  was  caught  from 
the  first  moment,  hooked  to  the  belt  of  that  innocent 
creature,  twined  in  those  beauteous  locks  curled  by  the 
fingers  of  fairies.  The  youth,  already  corrupted,  be- 
lieved in  that  assemblage  of  purities  robed  in  white 
muslin,  in  that  sweet  look  as  carefully  deliberated  as 
a  law  in  the  two  Chambers.  In  such  a  situation  it  is 
all-sufficient  if  the  man  who  is  expected  to  believe  in 
the  lies  of  women  does  believe  in  them.  The  rest  of 
the  world  are  of  no  more  consequence  than  figures  in 
a  tapestry  to  two  lovers. 

The  duchess  was,  without  flattery,  one  of  the  ten 
acknowledged     and     recognized    prettiest    women    in 


76  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities, 

Paris,  though  we  all  know  that  there  are  in  the  world 
of  lovers  as  many  "  prettiest  women  "  as  u  finest  books 
of  the  a«;e "  in  literature.  At  Victurnien's  time  of 
life,  the  conversation  he  now  had  with  the  duchess 
could  be  sustained  without  much  fatigue.  Young,  and 
little  aware  of  Parisian  life,  he  felt  no  need  of  being 
on  his  guard,  nor  of  watching  his  ever}'  word  and  his 
every  look.  The  religious  sentimentalism  of  the  duch- 
ess, which  conveyed  to  the  mind  of  each  party  ex- 
tremely droll  under-meanings,  excluded,  of  course, 
the  soft  familiarity,  the  witty  laisser-aller  of  the  old- 
fashioned  French  causeries ;  the  lovers,  in  fact,  made 
love  in  a  cloud. 

Victurnien  had  precisely  enough  provincial  innocence 
to  be  thrown  into  a  state  of  ecstasy,  very  suitable  and 
not  assumed,  which  pleased  the  duchess.  Madame  de 
Maufrigneuse  estimated  the  error  of  the  young  count 
—  not  perhaps  without  some  dread  —  at  six  good 
months  of  the  game  of  pure  love.  She  was  so  delicious 
in  her  role  of  dove,  veiling  the  light  of  her  eyes  be- 
neath their  silken  fringes,  that  the  Marquise  d'Espard, 
on  bidding  her  good-night,  whispered,  "  Well  done, 
capitally  done,  my  dear."  After  which  comprehend- 
ing speech,  the  handsome  marquise  allowed  her  rival 
to  continue  her  new  journey  through  our  modern  map 
of  the  "  Pays  du  Tendre,"  — a  conception,  by  the  bye, 
which  is  not  as  ridiculous  as  some  people  think  it. 
That  map  is  re-engraved,  age  after  age,  with  different 
names,  all  leading,  however,  to  the  same  capital. 

In  an  hour's  public  tete-a-tete,  on  a  sofa  in  a  corner, 
the  duchess  led  d'Essjrisjnon  through  all  the  Amadi- 
sian  devotions,  Scipionesque  generosities,   and  ascetic 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  77 

abnegations  of  the  middle  ages,  then  just  beginning 
to  reveal  its  halberds,  turrets,  coats  of  mail,  pointed 
shoes,  and  other  romantic  paraphernalia  in  painted 
cardboard.  She  was  inimitable  also  in  the  ideas  she 
did  not  express,  but  which  she  stuck  into  Victurnien's 
heart,  like  pins  into  a  cushion,  one  by  one,  in  a  dis- 
creet, unconscious  way.  She  was  reticent,  charmingly 
hypocritical,  prodigal  of  suggested  promises,  which 
melted  on  closer  examination  like  ice  in  the  sun.  This 
delightful  first  meeting  ended  in  the  slip-noose  of  an 
invitation  to  come  and  see  her,  given  with  a  certain 
demure  manner  which  written  words  in  vain  attempt 
to  describe. 

"  You  will  forge*-  me,"  she  said;  "  you  will  meet  so 
man)7  women  anxious  to  court  you  instead  of  helping 
you  —  But  you  will  come  back  to  me  undeceived  — 
Will  you  come  sooner?  No.  Ah!  as  you  will —  For 
myself,  I  say  frankly  that  your  visits  will  please  me 
very  much.  Men  with  souls  are  so  rare ;  and  I  believe 
in  yours  —  Well,  adieu  ;  if  we  talk  together  longer, 
people  will  talk  of  us." 

So  savins,  the  anoel  flew  away.  Victurnien  did  not 
stay  long  after  her  departure  ;  but  he  remained  long 
enough  to  let  the  rest  of  the  company  guess  his  infatu- 
ation by  that  demeanor  of  happiness  which  has  some- 
thing of  the  calm  assurance  and  concentrated  beatitude 
of  a  devote  issuing;  absolved  from  the  confessional. 

"  Madame  de  Maufrioneuse  went  straight  to  her  end 
this  evening,"  said  the  Duchesse  de  Lenoncourt,  when 
only  some  half-dozen  persons  remained  in  the  salon  ; 
namely.  Mademoiselle  des  Touches  herself,  des  Lu- 
peaulx,  a  master  of  petitions,  Charles  de  Vandenesse, 


78  The    G-allery  of  Antiquities, 

the  Vicomtesse  de  Grandlieu-Canalis,  and  Madame  de 
Serizy. 

"  D'Esgrignon  and  Maufrigneuse  are  two  names 
that  were  sure  to  hook  together,"  said  Madame  de 
Se'rizy,  who  was  supposed  to  say  witty  things. 

"  She  has  fairly  turned  herself  out  to  grass  on  Pla- 
tonism,"  said  des  Lupeaulx. 

"  She  will  ruin  that  poor  innocent,"  remarked  Charles 
de  Vandenesse. 

"  In  what  way?"  asked  Mademoiselle  des  Touches. 

"Oh,  morally  and  financially;  not  a  doubt  of  it," 
said  the  viscountess,  rising. 

That  cruel  remark  was  the  forerunner  of  cruel  reali- 
ties for  the  young  Comte  d'Esgrignon. 

The  next  day  he  wrote  his  aunt  a  letter,  describing 
his  debut  in  the  highest  ranks  of  the  faubourg  Saint- 
Germain  in  the  most  iridescent  colors  cast  by  the 
prism  of  love.  He  explained  the  reception  he  had  met 
with  everywhere  in  a  manner  to  gratify  his  father's 
pride.  The  marquis  had  the  letter  read  over  to  him 
twice,  and  rubbed  his  hands  as  he  listened  to  the  tale 
of  the  dinner  given  by  the  Vidame  de  Pamiers,  one 
of  his  old  acquaintances,  and  of  the  presentation  that 
followed  to  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse ;  but  he  lost 
himself  in  conjectures  as  to  the  presence  in  such  society 
of  the  younger  son  of  a  judge,  a  Sieur  Blondet,  who 
had  been  a  public  prosecutor  under  the  Republic. 

There  was  joy  that  evening  in  the  Gallery  of  Antiq- 
uities, and  much  talk  of  the  success  of  the  young  count. 
This  letter  had  no  financial  postscript,  no  unpleasant 
conclusion  about  the  sinews  of  war,  which  young  men 
are  apt  to  add  in  such  cases.     Mademoiselle  Armande 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  79 

communicated  the  letter  to  Cbesnel.  Chesnel  was 
happy,  and  raised  no  doubts.  It  was  clear,  as  the 
Chevalier  and  the  marquis  said,  that  a  young  man  who 
was  liked  by  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse  and  taken 
up  by  her  would  become  a  hero  at  court,  where,  as 
they  judged  from  the  olden  time,  success  was  obtained 
through  women.  The  young  count  had  certainly  chosen 
well.  The  dowagers  present  related  the  gallant  ad- 
ventures of  the  house  of  Maufrigneuse,  from  Louis  XIII. 
to  Louis  XIV.,  sparing  their  hearers  the  earlier  reigns. 
In  short,  every  one  was  elated.  That  particular  as- 
semblage of  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities  ought  to  have 
had  a  dramatic  author  present  who  would  have  made 
a  scene  of  the  highest  comedy  out  of  it. 

Victumien  received  charming  letters  from  his  father 
and  aunt,  also  from  the  Chevalier,  who  asked  to  be 
remembered  to  the  vidame,  with  whom  he  had  gone  to 
Spa  at  the  period  of  a  journey  made  there  in  1778  by 
a  celebrated  Hungarian  princess.  Every  page  of  these 
letters  was  filled  with  the  adulation  to  which  these  tender 
friends  had  too  long  accustomed  the  unhappy  youth. 
Mademoiselle  Armande  seemed  to  enter  especially  into 
the  matter  of  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse. 

Glad  of  the  approbation  of  his  family,  the  young 
count  plunged  vigorously  into  the  perilous  and  costly 
path  of  dandyism.  He  had  five  horses  ;  but  in  that 
he  was  moderate,  for  de  Marsav  had  fourteen.  He  re- 
turned  to  the  vidame,  de  Marsay,  Rastignac,  and  even 
Blondet  the  dinner  received.  That  dinner  alone  cost 
him  five  hundred  francs.  The  young  provincial  was 
entertained  by  all  these  gentlemen  on  the  same  scale, 
grandly.     He  played  much,  and  with  great  ill-luck,  at 


80  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

whist,  then  the  fashionable  game.  He  organized  his 
leisure  and  kept  himself  busy  all  the  time.  Every 
morning  from  twelve  to  three  he  was  with  the  duchess 
in  her  own  house  ;  then  he  met  her  again  in  the  Bois 
de  Boulogne,  —  he  on  horseback,  she  in  her  carriage. 
If  the  handsome  pair  occasionally  rode  out  together,  it 
was  always  in  the  mornings.  In  the  evenings,  balls, 
fetes,  theatres,  and  general  society  filled  his  time. 
Victurnien  shone  wherever  he  went,  for  he  cast  the 
pearls  of  his  wit  about  him  easily,  and  he  often  used 
pregnant  words  in  judging  of  men  and  things  and 
events.  He  was  like  a  fruit-tree  as  yet  only  in  blos- 
som. The  debilitating  life  he  led  was  likely  to  dissi- 
pate more  soul  than  even  money ;  in  such  a  life  the 
noblest  talents  are  buried,  the  most  incorruptible  honor 
fails,  the  firmest  wills  are  emasculated. 

The  duchess,  that  white  creature,  so  fragile,  so  an- 
gelic, took  delight  in  the  pleasures  of  young  men ;  she 
liked  to  see  first  representations ;  she  loved  drollery, 
and  amusements  that  were  not  of  the  common  run. 
A  restaurant  was  as  yet  unknown  to  her,  and  d'Es- 
grignon  arranged  a  charming  party  at  the  Rocher  de 
Cancale  composed  of  the  lively  young  roues  whose 
company  she  affected  while  she  preached  to  them 
morality.  The  gayety,  wit,  and  fun  of  this  supper 
equalled  its  cost.     It  led  to  others  of  the  same  kind. 

Nevertheless,  Victurnien's  passion  remained  angelic. 
Yes,  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse  continued  an  angel 
whom  the  corruptions  of  earth  could  never  touch ; 
an  angel  at  the  Varietes,  in  presence  of  those  semi- 
obscene  and  popular  farces  which  made  her  laugh ;  an 
angel  in  the  midst  of  a  cross-fire  of  questionable  jests 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  81 

and  scandalous  gossip ;  an  angel  at  the  Vaudeville,  in 
a  screened  box ;  an  angel  watching  the  poses  of  a 
danseuse  at  the  Opera  and  criticising  them  with  the 
knowingness  of  old  men ;  an  angel  at  the  Porte-Saint- 
Martin  ;  an  angel  at  the  little  boulevard  theatres ;  an 
angel  at  a  masked  ball,  where  she  amused  herself  like 
a  collegian,  — an  angel  who  talked  of  love  as  existing 
only  on  privations,  heroisms,  sacrifices,  and  made 
d'Esgrignon  change  a  horse  whose  color  she  did  not 
fancy,  and  expected  him  to  keep  up  the  style  of  an 
English  lord  with  a  million  a  year.  Moreover,  she  was 
always  an  angel  at  cards ;  for  who  could  say  to  Victur- 
nien  more  angelically,  "Play  for  me"?  She  was  so 
enchantingly  delightful  in  her  follies  that  every  man 
was  ready  to  sell  his  soul  to  the  devil  to  minister  to 
the  terrestrial  joys  of  such  a  celestial  being. 

By  the  time  his  first  winter  in  Paris  was  over,  the 
count  had  drawn  upon  Maitre  Cardot  (who  was  careful 
not  to  remonstrate)  for  the  trifling  sum  of  thirty  thou- 
sand francs  over  and  above  the  sum  forwarded  by 
Chesnel.  An  extremely  polite  refusal  from  the  notary 
of  a  further  demand  warned  Victuruien  of  this  debt. 
The  refusal  was  all  the  more  annoying  because  he  had 
just  lost  six  thousand  francs  at  the  club,  and  he  could 
not  play  there  again  without  paying.  After  expressing 
great  offence  at  Maitre  Cardot's  refusal,  although  the 
latter  had  really  shown  thirty  thousand  francs'  worth 
of  confidence  in  him,  he  was  reduced  to  ask  the  notaiy's 
advice  as  to  what  he  should  do,  inasmuch  as  the  matter 
concerned  a  debt  of  honor. 

"  Draw  notes  on  your  father's  banker,  take  them  to 
his  correspondent   in  Paris,    who  will  doubtless  cash 

6 


82  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

them ;  then  write  to  your  family  and  ask  them  to  pay 
in  that  amount  to  their  banker's." 

In  this  emergency  the  count  heard  an  inward  voice 
uttering  to  his  soul  the  name  of  du  Croisier,  whose 
private  sentiments  as  to  the  aristocracy,  at  whose  beck 
and  call  Victurnien  had  always  seen  the  man,  were 
wholly  unknown  to  him.  He  therefore  wrote  to  the 
banker  and  told  him  in  a  free  and  easy  manner  that  he 
had  drawn  upon  him  for  the  sum  of  ten  thousand 
francs,  which  would  be  remitted  to  him  by  Monsieur 
Chesnel  or  Mademoiselle  Armande  d'Esgrignon  as  soon 
as  his  letter  of  advice  should  reach  them.  He  then 
wrote  two  touching  letters  to  Chesnel  and  his  aunt. 
When  it  becomes  a  question  of  plunging  into  gulfs  of 
misery,  young  men  give  proofs  of  the  utmost  clever- 
ness; luck  attends  them.  Victurnien  ascertained  in 
the  course  of  the  morning  the  name  and  address  of 
the  Parisian  bankers  who  did  business  for  du  Croisier, 
namely,  the  Kellers.  De  Marsay,  who  knew  all  Paris, 
gave  him  the  information.  The  Kellers  paid  d'Esgri- 
gnon the  amount  of  the  note,  less  the  discount,  without 
comment. 

The  amount  of  this  gambling-debt  was,  however, 
nothing  in  comparison  with  other  and  more  legitimate 
debts.     It  rained  bills  at  Victurnien's  house. 

"Bless  me!  do  you  bother  yourself  with  those 
things?  "  said  Rastignac  one  morning,  laughing.  "You 
don't  pay  them,  do  you,  my  dear  fellow?  I  did  n't 
think  you  so  bourgeois." 

"  My  dear  Rastignac,  I  must  bother  about  them  ;  I 
owe  twenty-odd  thousand  francs." 

De  Marsay,  who  had  come  to  ask  Victurnien  to  go 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  83 

to  a  steeple-chase,  pulled  an  elegant  little  wallet  from 
his  pocket  and  took  out  twenty  thousand  francs. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  the  best  way  of  saving  them; 
I  am  all  the  more  pleased  at  having  won  them  yester- 
day from  my  honorable  father,  Lord  Dudley." 

This  graceful  French  act  completely  won  Victurnien, 
who  now  believed  in  friendship.  He  took  the  money, 
did  not  pay  his  debts,  and  spent  it  on  his  pleasures.  De 
Marsay  saw  with  extreme  pleasure  that  d'Esgrignon 
was,  in  the  language  of  dandyism,  "  plunging  "  deeper 
and  deeper,  and  he  took  delight  in  pressing,  with  every 
sign  of  friendship,  a  hand  upon  his  shoulder  to  bear 
him  down,  and  get  him  the  sooner  out  of  sight. 
Secretly  he  was  jealous  of  the  open  distinction  the 
duchess  gave  to  d'Esgrignon,  while  to  him  she  had 
insisted  on  concealment.  Later,  on  the  same  day, 
after  the  steeple-chase,  de  Marsay  said  to  Victurnien, 
lauohino- :  — 

"Those  bills  3-ou  were  troubling  about  are  certainly 
not  yours." 

"  He  would  not  trouble  about  them  if  they  were," 
said  Rastis;nac. 

"Whose  are  they,  then?"  asked  d'Esgrignon. 

"Don't  you  know  the  position  of  the  duchess?" 
asked  de  Marsay. 

"  No,"  said  d'Esgrignon,  puzzled. 

"  Well,  here  it  is,  then,"  responded  de  Marsay. 
"Thirty  thousand  francs  to  Victorine,  eighteen  thou- 
sand to  Houbigant,  a  large  bill  at  Herbault's,  another 
at  Nattier's,  another  at  Nourtier's,  another  at  the  little 
Latours',  —  in  all,  over  a  hundred  thousand  francs." 

"  An  angel !  "  said  d'Esgrignon,  looking  up  to  heaven. 


84  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"  And  that 's  the  cost  of  her  wings,"  cried  Rastignac. 

"She  owes  all  that,  my  dear  fellow,"  replied  de 
Marsay,  "precisely  because  she  is  an  angel.  But  we 
have  all  met  angels  in  that  situation,"  he  added,  look- 
ing at  Rastignac.  "  Women  are  sublime  in  one  thing; 
they  never  understand  anything  about  money ;  it 
does  n't  concern  them  and  they  don't  meddle  with  it, 
except  to  spend  it.  They  are  invited  to  the  '  banquet 
of  life,'  as  that  poet  who  died  in  a  hospital  called  it." 

44  How  should  you  know  all  this  if  I  do  not?  "  asked 
d'Esgrignon,  naively. 

"  You  would  be  the  last  to  know  it,  just  as  she  will 
be  the  last  to  know  you  are  in  debt." 

"I  thought  she  had  a  hundred  thousand  francs  a 
year,"  said  d'Esgrignon. 

"  Her  husband,"  replied  de  Marsay,  "  has  separated 
from  her ;  he  lives  with  his  regiment  and  economizes, 
for  he  is  in  debt  too,  the  dear  little  duke !  Where  do 
you  come  from  ?  You  must  learn  to  do  like  the  rest  of 
us  ;  we  all  keep  one  another's  accounts.  Mademoiselle 
Diane  (I  loved  her  for  her  name)  —  Diane  d'Uxelles 
had  a  dot  of  sixty  thousand  francs  a  year  settled  on  her- 
self. Her  house  for  the  last  six  years  has  been  kept 
on  a  footing  that  requires  at  least  two  hundred  thou- 
sand ;  it  is  consequently  quite  certain  that  her  property 
is  mortgaged  to  its  full  value.  Some  fine  day  the  bell 
must  be  melted  and  the  dear  angel  will  be  made  to  fly 
by  —  shall  I  say  the  word? — the  sheriff's  officer,  who 
will  have  the  brazen  impudence  to  lay  hold  of  an  angel 
as  he  would  of  one  of  us." 

"  Poor  ano'el !  " 

"  Ah !  my  dear  boy,  it  costs  a  good  deal  to  live  in  a 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  85 

Parisian  paradise ;  angels  are  forced  to  whiten  their 
skins,  and  plume  their  wings,  every  morning,"  said 
Rastisnac. 

As  it  had  passed  through  Victurnien's  head  to  reveal 
his  embarrassments  to  his  dear  Diane,  a  shudder  came 
over  him  on  reflecting  that  he  owed  at  that  moment 
sixty  thousand  francs,  and  that  bills  for  ten  thousand 
more  would  be  presently  coming  in.  He  went  home 
rather  melancholy.  His  ill-disguised  uneasiness  was 
noticed  by  his  friends,  who  said  to  each  other  at 
dinner : — 

"  That  little  d'Esgrignon  is  plunging  ;  he  has  n't  the 
Parisian  tread;  he'll  blow  his  brains  out.  He's  a 
little  fool,"  etc.,  etc. 

When  Victurnien  reached  home,  his  valet  gave  him 
two  letters.  First,  one  from  Chesnel,  filled,  he  sup- 
posed, with  reproachful  fidelity  and  the  rubric  of  pro- 
bity and  honor;  he  respected  it,  but  he  laid  it  aside 
for  future  reading.  In  the  second  letter  he  read  with 
satisfaction  the  Ciceronian  phrases  in  which  du  Croisier, 
on  his  knees  to  him,  like  Sganarelle  before  Geronte, 
entreated  him  never  to  think  of  depositing  money 
before  doing  him  the  honor  to  draw  upon  him.  The 
letter  ended  with  a  phrase  which  looked  so  like  an 
open  mone}7-box  filled  with  coin,  placed  at  the  service 
of  the  noble  house  of  d'Esgrignon,  that  Victurnien 
made  the  gesture  of  Sganarelle,  of  Mascarille,  of  all 
those  who  feel  the  prickings  of  conscience  at  their 
finger-ends. 

Knowing  that  he  now  had  unlimited  credit  with  the 
Kellers,  he  gayly  picked  up  and  opened  Chesnel's 
letter.     He  expected  four  pages,  brimming  over  with 


86  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

remonstrances  ;  he  could  see  the  usual  words,  prudence, 
honor,  proper  sense  of  behavior,  etc.  For  a  minute  he' 
turned  giddy  on  reading  these  few  lines :  — 

Monsieur  le  Comte, — I  have,  out  of  my  whole  for- 
tune, only  two  hundred  thousand  francs  left.  I  entreat  you 
not  to  go  beyond  that  sum  if  you  do  me  the  honor  to  accept 
it   from   the   most   devoted   servant   of    your   family,   who 

presents  to  you  his  respects. 

Chesnel. 

"  A  man  out  of  Plutarch,"  thought  Victurnien, 
throwing  the  letter  on  the  table.  He  felt  annoyed,  or 
rather  he  felt  small  in  presence  of  such  grandeur. 

"  Come,  come  !  "  thought  he,  "  I  must  reform." 

Instead  of  dining  at  a  restaurant  where  he  usually 
spent  fifty  or  sixty  francs  for  his  meal,  he  went  to 
dine  with  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse,  to  whom  he 
related  the  affair  of  the  letter. 

"  I  wish  I  could  see  that  man,"  she  said. 

"  What  would  von  do  with  him?  " 

"  Put  him  in  charge  of  my  affairs." 

Diane  was  enchantingly  dressed ;  she  wished  to  do 
honor  to  Victurnien.  The  handsome  pair  went  to  the 
Opera.  Never  did  the  beautiful,  seductive  being  look 
more  seraphic,  more  ethereal.  No  one  seeing  her  could 
have  believed  in  the  debts  de  Marsay  had  figured  up 
to  d'Esgrignon  that  morning.  The  cares  of  earth  had 
surely  never  touched  that  heavenly  brow,  instinct  with 
womanly  pride.  Her  dreamy  air  seemed  the  reflection  of 
terrestrial  love  that  was  nobly  stifled.  The  men  laid 
wagers  that  Victurnien  would  have  his  trouble  for  his 
pains ;  but  the  women  were  sure  that  their  rival  would 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  87 

succumb.  A  circumstance  which  depicts  the  morals  of 
Paris  in  a  surprising  manner  was  this :  The  men  were 
convinced  that  the  duchess  paid  for  Victurnien's  luxury, 
while  the  women  asserted  that  Victurnien  bore  the 
cost  of  what  Rastignac  had  called  the  "  angel's  wings." 
Victurnien,  on  whom  the  debts  of  the  duchess  weighed 
as  heavily  as  his  own,  was  twenty  times  on  the  point  of 
opening  the  subject  with  a  question  ;  but  twenty  times 
did  the  question  die  upon  his  lips  in  presence  of  that 
angelic  being,  as  if  such  mundane  doubts  were  an 
insult  offered  to  her  madonna-like  purity.  The  duchess, 
we  may  remark,  never  committed  the  fault  of  talking 
about  her  virtue  or  her  condition  of  angel,  as  many  pro- 
vincial women  who  imitated  her  have  been  known  to  do. 
She  was  far  more  clever ;  she  inspired  that  belief  in  her 
lovers.  Some  persons  tried  to  diminish  her  credit  in 
this  respect  by  declaring  that  she  was  the  dupe  of  her 
own  sorcery.  A  great  calumny  !  —  the  duchess  thor- 
oughly understood  herself. 


88  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 


VI. 

FOREWARNINGS. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  winter  of  1823  and  1824, 
Victurnien  had  a  balance  against  him  at  the  Kellers  of 
two  hundred  thousand  francs,  of  which  neither  Chesnel 
nor  Mademoiselle  Armande  had  the  faintest  suspicion. 
To  hide  the  fact  that  he  was  obtaining  money  in  this 
way,  he  drew  from  time  to  time  for  a  few  thousand 
francs  from  Chesnel,  and  he  wrote  deceptive  letters  to  his 
aunt  and  father,  who  lived  contented  —  and  deceived, 
like  most  contented  persons.  One  man  only  knew  the 
horrible  catastrophe  that  the  fascinations  of  Parisian 
life  were  slowly  but  surely  bringing  down  upon  that 
great  and  noble  family. 

Du  Croisier,  passing  nightly  before  the  Gallery  of 
Antiquities,  would  rub  his  hands  with  joy,  finding  his 
ends  in  sight.  Those  ends  were  not  alone  the  ruin, 
but  the  disgrace  of  the  house  of  Esgrignon.  He  had 
the  instinct  of  his  vengeance ;  one  might  even  say  he 
scented  it.  A  catastrophe  was  certain  now  that  the 
count  was  burdened  with  a  debt  under  which  that  }7oung 
soul  must  break  down.  And  the  time  had  come  when 
the  crisis  could  be  brought  about. 

Du  Croisier  began  operations  by  crushing  the  enemy 
who  was  personally  most  offensive  to  him,  the  worthy 
Chesnel.  The  srood  old  man  lived  in  the  rue  du  Ber- 
cail,  in  a  house  with  a  very   steep   roof  and  a  small 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  89 

paved  courtyard,  the  walls  of  which  were  covered  with 
roses  to  the  second  story.  Behind  the  house  was  a 
tiny  provincial  garden,  inclosed  by  damp  and  dismal 
walls,  and  divided  into  beds  with  box  edgings.  The 
gate,  gray  and  clean,  had  the  protection  of  a  grated 
opening  provided  with  a  sharp  bell  which  said,  as 
plainly  as  some  escutcheons,  "  Here  lives  and  breathes 
a  notary." 

It  was  half -past  five  in  the  afternoon.  The  old  man 
was  digesting  his  dinner,  seated  before  the  fire  in  his 
old  black  leather  chair.  He  had  put  on  a  certain 
pasteboard  armor  in  the  form  of  a  boot,  with  which  he 
protected  his  legs  from  the  heat  of  the  flames ;  for  the 
old  gentleman  was  in  the  habit  of  putting  his  feet  on 
the  fender  and  poking  the  fire  as  he  digested.  He 
liked  good  eating,  and  he  always  ate  too  much.  Alas ! 
without  that  small  defect  would  he  not  have  been 
more  perfect  than  it  is  given  to  man  to  be?  He  had 
taken  his  cup  of  coffee,  brought  by  his  old  housekeeper, 
who  had  just  retired,  bearing  with  her  the  tray  which 
had  served  this  purpose  a  score  of  years ;  he  was  now 
awaiting  his  clerks  before  going  out  as  usual  to  spend 
the  evening ;  he  was  thinking  —  no  need  to  ask  of 
what  or  of  whom.  Never  a  day  passed  that  he  did  not 
say  to  himself,  "Where  is  he?  What  is  he  doing?" 
He  believed  him  now  to  be  travelling  in  Italy  with  the 
beautiful  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse. 

Among  the  sweetest  enjoyments  of  men  who  possess 
a  fortune  earned,  not  inherited,  is  the  recollection  of  the 
toil  it  cost  them,  and  the  forecasting  of  the  future  they 
can  give  to  their  money ;  they  enjoy  through  every 
tense  of  that  verb.     So  this  old  man,  whose  feelings 


90  The    Grallery  of  Antiquities. 

were  concentrated  in  one  attachment,  found  a  double 
enjoyment  in  thinking  that  his  well-selected  landed 
property,  now  highly  cultivated,  bought  by  years  of 
toil,  would  some  day  swell  the  domains  of  the  house 
of  Esgrignon.  In  the  ease  of  his  old  arm-chair,  he 
hugged  this  hope  to  his  soul ;  he  looked  in  turn  to  the 
edifice  of  lighted  brands  and  embers  he  was  raising 
with  the  tongs,  and  then  to  that  other  edifice  of  the 
d'Esgrignon  family  raised  from  its  misfortunes  by  his 
care.  He  congratulated  himself  on  the  meaning  and 
object  he  had  given  to  his  life,  imagining  the  young 
count  happy. 

Chesnel,  however,  was  not  without  intelligence ;  his 
soul  did  not  act  alone  in  this  great  devotion.  He  had 
his  own  pride.  He  was  like  those  nobles  who  rebuild 
the  pillars  of  a  cathedral  and  carve  their  names  upon 
them ;  his  name  should  be  inscribed  upon  the  memory 
of  the  house  of  Esgrignon ;  yes,  the  family  would  talk 
of  old  Chesnel.  At  that  moment  his  housekeeper  came 
hurrying  in  with  every  sign  of  extreme  alarm. 

"  Is  the  house  afire,  Brigitte?  "  asked  Chesnel. 

"  Something  like  it,"  she  answered;  "  Monsieur  du 
Croisier  wants  to  see  you." 

"  Monsieur  du  Croisier,"  repeated  the  old  man,  so 
cruelly  stabbed  by  the  blade  of  suspicion  that  he  let 
fall  the  tonofs  on  the  hearth.     "  Monsieur  du  Croisier 

CD 

here!"  he  thought,  —  "our  worst  enemy  !  " 

Du  Croisier  entered  with  the  gait  of  a  cat  that  smells 
milk  in  the  pantry.  He  bowed,  took  the  arm-chair  the 
notary  placed  for  him,  sat  down  very  meekly,  and 
presented  an  account  for  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
seven  thousand  francs,  forming  the  total,  interest  in- 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  91 

eluded,  of  moneys  advanced  to  Monsieur  Victurnien 
on  notes  drawn  by  him  and  accepted ;  payment  of 
which  he  now  demanded,  under  pain  of  proceeding  with 
the  utmost  rigor  of  the  law  against  the  heir  of  the 
house  of  Esgrignon. 

Chesnel  looked  over  the  fatal  notes  one  bv  one,  and 
requested  silence  on  the  subject  from  the  family  enemy. 
The  enemy  promised  to  be  silent  if  he  were  paid  within 
forty-eight  hours ;  he  wras  embarrassed  himself ;  he 
was  involved  with  manufacturers.  Du  Croisier  went 
through  a  series  of  those  pecuniary  falsehoods  which 
never  deceive  either  borrowers  or  notaries.  Poor 
Chesnel's  eyes  grew  blurred  ;  he  could  scarcely  repress 
his  tears.  He  could  only  meet  this  demand  by  mort- 
gaging his  entire  property  to  its  full  value.  The 
moment  du  Croisier  learned  of  this  difficulty,  he  ceased 
to  talk  of  his  own  pressure  for  money,  and  bluntly 
proposed  to  the  old  notary  to  sell  the  whole  property 
outright  to  him.  The  proposal  was  accepted,  the  sale 
made,  and  in  two  days  the  papers  were  signed.  Poor 
Chesnel  could  not  endure  the  thought  of  the  child  of 
the  house  in  a  debtor's  prison. 

A  few  days  later,  and  nothing  was  left  to  the  no- 
tary but  his  practice,  his  outstanding  bills,  and  his 
little  house.  He  stood,  despoiled  of  his  property, 
beneath  the  old  oak  ceiling;  of  his  studv,  looking;  at 
the  carved  beams,  looking  at  the  arbor  in  his  garden, 
thinking  no  more  of  his  fine  farms  nor  of  his  dear 
country-place  Le  Jard  —  no  ! 

"  What  will  become  of  him  ?  "  he  was  saying  to  him- 
self with  troubled  eyes  and  a  heavy  head.  "  We 
must  bring  him  home  and  marry  him." 


92  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

He  knew  not  how  to  approach  Mademoiselle  Ar- 
mande  with  this  fatal  news.  He,  who  had  just  with 
his  own  means  paid  the  debt  in  the  name  of  the  family, 
he  trembled  to  speak  of  these  things.  As  he  went 
from  the  rue  du  Bercail  to  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon,  the 
good  old  notary's  heart  was  throbbing  like  that  of  a 
young  girl  as  she  leaves  her  father's  home,  never  to 
return  till  a  mother  and  deserted. 

Mademoiselle  Armande  had  just  received  a  charming, 
hypocritical  letter,  in  which  her  nephew  seemed  the 
happiest  and  most  light-hearted  man  in  the  universe. 
He  had  been  to  Italy  and  to  various  Baths  with 
Madame  de  Maufrigneuse,  and  he  now  sent  to  his 
family  a  journal  of  their  trip.  Happiness  was  in  every 
sentence.  Here  a  ravishing  description  of  Venice,  with 
intelligent  appreciation  of  the  beauties  of  Italian  art ; 
there  delightful  pages  on  the  Duomo  of  Milan,  and 
that  of  Florence ;  sketches  of  the  Apennines,  compar- 
ing them  with  the  Alps,  of  villages  like  that  of  Chia- 
vari,  where  happiness  seems  ready-made  about  us,  — 
all  these  things  fascinated  the  poor  aunt,  who  drank  in 
the  letter  with  long  draughts,  as  the  pure  woman, 
ripened  in  the  fire  of  repressed  passions,  the  victim  of 
desires  offered  as  a  holocaust  upon  the  domestic  altar 
with  unending  joy,  might  well  be  supposed  to  do.  She 
had  not  the  angel  semblance  of  the  duchess ;  she 
resembled  those  straight,  thin,  elongated  figures,  yel- 
lowish in  tone,  which  the  wonderful  builders  of  cathe- 
drals placed  in  niches  at  various  angles,  at  the  feet  of 
which  perpetual  dampness  permits  the  bind-weed  to 
grow  and  twine  until,  on  some  fine  day,  behold,  its 
blue  bells  crown  the  saintly  head. 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  93 

At  this  moment  the  blueness  was  glowing  in  the 
eyes  of  the  living  saint.  Mademoiselle  Armande  loved 
the  beautiful  couple;  she  did  not  think  it  reprehensi- 
ble that  a  married  woman  should  love  Victurnien  ;  in 
all  others  she  would  instantly  have  blamed  it,  but  here 
the  wrong  would  be  in  not  loving  her  nephew.  Aunts 
and  mothers  and  sisters  have  a  certain  jurisprudence  of 
their  own  about  their  nephews,  sons,  and  brothers.  She 
fancied  herself  beside  the  handsome  pair  among  those 
palaces  built  by  fairies  on  either  side  of  the  Grand 
Canal  of  Venice.  She  was  in  a  gondola  with  Victur- 
nien, who  was  telling  her  how  happy  he  was  to  feel  the 
beautiful  hand  of  the  duchess  in  his  own,  and  to  be  so 
loved  as  he  floated  on  the  bosom  of  that  amorous  queen 
of  the  Italian  waters.  At  that  moment  of  angelic 
beatitude  Chesnel  appeared  at  the  end  of  a  garden 
path,  the  gravel  creaking  beneath  his  tread  like  a 
harsh  foreboding.  That  sound,  and  the  sight  of  the 
old  man  in  a  state  of  dire  distress  filled  the  poor 
woman  with  the  cruel  emotion  which  follows  a  recall 
of  the  soul  from  worlds  imaginary. 

"  AVhat  is  it?  "  she  cried,  as  if  struck  to  the  heart. 

"All  is  lost!"  said  Chesnel.  "Monsieur  le  comte 
will  bring  disgrace  upon  the  family  if  we  do  not  bring 
him  to  order." 

He  showed  her  the  notes  wTith  Victurnien's  signature  ; 
he  described  the  tortures  he  had  gone  through  for  the 
last  four  days  in  few  and  simple,  but  strong  and  touch- 
ing words. 

"Unhappy  boy,  he  is  deceiving  us!"  cried  Made- 
moiselle Armande,  whose  heart  dilated  from  the  rush 
of  blood  that  flowed  there  in  waves. 


94  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"Let  us  say  our  med  culpa,  mademoiselle,"  replied 
the  old  mau,  iu  a  firm  voice.  "We  trained  him  to 
follow  his  own  will ;  he  needed  a  stern  guide,  and 
neither  you,  an  unmarried  woman,  nor  I,  to  whom  he 
would  not  listen,  could  be  that  to  him ;  he  has  had 
no  mother." 

"There  are  terrible  fatalities  for  the  falling  race  of 
nobles,"  said  Mademoiselle  Armande,  in  tears. 

At  this  moment  the  marquis  appeared.  He  had  just 
come  in  from  his  daily  walk  and  was  reading  a  letter 
from  his  son  describing  his  journey  from  the  aristo- 
cratic point  of  view.  Wherever  he  had  gone  Victur- 
nien  had  been  received  by  the  great  Italian  families. 
He  had  presented  a  distinguished  appearance  worthy 
of  a  d'Esgrignon. 

Mademoiselle  Armande  made  a  sign  to  Chesnel, 
eager  and  terrible,  well  understood  by  the  notary. 
The  poor  father,  that  flower  of  feudal  honor,  must  be 

* 

allowed  to  die  in  his  illusions.  A  compact  of  silence 
and  devotion  was  made  between  the  noble  notary  and 
the  noble  lady  by  a  mere  inclination  of  the  head. 

"Ah!  Chesnel,  that  is  not  exactly  the  way  a 
d'Esgrignon  went  to  Italy  in  the  fifteenth  century, 
when  Marechal  Trivulce,  in  the  service  of  France, 
fought  under  a  d'Esgrignon  who  had  a  Bayard  also 
under  him.  Other  times,  other  ways.  The  Duchesse 
de  Maufrigneuse  may  be  fully  as  handsome  as  a  Mar- 
chesa  Spinola." 

The  old  man,  thinking  of  his  genealogical  tree, 
walked  away,  gesticulating  as  though  he  were  talking 
to  himself.  The  two  afflicted  friends  remained  alone, 
sitting  on  the  same  bench,  united  by  the  same  thought. 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  95 

"What  will  become  of  him?"  said  Mademoiselle 
Armande. 

"  Du  Croisier  has  given  orders  to  the  Messrs.  Keller 
to  accept  no  further  notes,"  replied  Chesnel. 

"  He  must  have  debts,"  continued  the  aunt. 

"I  fear  so." 

"  If  he  has  no  resources  what  can  he  do?  " 

"  I  dare  not  answer  that  question  to  myself." 

"But  we  must  rescue  him  and  bring  him  home;  he 
will  certainly  come  to  want." 

"And  to  worse,"  muttered  Chesnel,  lugubriously. 

Mademoiselle  Armande  did  not  understand,  she  could 
not  understand,  the  meaning  of  the  words. 

"  How  can  we  get  him  away  from  that  woman,  that 
duchess,  who,  no  doubt,  entices  him  on?"  she  said. 

"He  would  commit  crimes  to  stay  with  her,"  said 
Chesnel,  trying  to  reach  by  endurable  transitions  an 
unendurable  thought. 

"  Crimes  !  "  repeated  Mademoiselle  Armande.  "Ah ! 
Chesnel,  such  an  idea  could  come  to  none  but  you," 
she  added  with  a  crushing  glance.  "Noblemen  com- 
mit no  crimes  but  what  is  called  high  treason,  for  which 
they  lose  their  heads  like  kings,  on  a  black  scaffold." 

"Times  have  changed,"  said  Chesnel,  shaking  his 
head.  "Even  our  king-martyr  did  not  die  like 
Charles  I." 

This  reflection  calmed  her  anger ;  she  shuddered, 
though  without  admitting  the  possibility  of  Chesnel's 
idea. 

"To-morrow  we  must  take  some  course,"  she  said, 
"  but  it  needs  reflection.  We  have  our  remaining 
property  in  case  of  the  worst." 


96  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"Yes,"  replied  Chesnel,  "the  property  is  still  un- 
divided between  you  and  Monsieur  le  marquis ;  but 
yours  is  the  larger  share,  —  you  could  mortgage  it 
unknown  to  him." 

During  the  evening  the  players  at  whist,  reversis, 
boston,  and  backgammon,  noticed  a  peculiar  agitation 
on  the  usually  calm,  pure  features  of  Mademoiselle 
Armande. 

"  Poor,  sublime  girl !  "  said  the  old  Marquise  de  Cas- 
teran,  "it  is  not  surprising  that  she  suffers  still.  A 
woman  never  knows  to  what  she  condemns  herself 
in  after  life  by  making  such  sacrifices  as  she  has  made 
for  her  family." 

The  next  day  it  was  decided  between  Mademoiselle 
Armande  and  Chesnel  that  the  former  should  go  to 
Paris  and  drag  her  nephew  from  perdition.  If  any  one 
could  succeed  in  carrying  off  Victurnien  it  was  surely 
the  woman  who  had  a  mother's  yearning  for  him. 
Mademoiselle  Armande  made  up  her  mind  to  go  direct 
to  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse  and  declare  the 
whole  state  of  things  to  that  woman. 

But  it  was  absolutely  necessary  to  find  a  pretext  for 
this  journey,  in  the  eyes  of  the  marquis  and  of  the  town. 
Mademoiselle  Armande  sacrificed  all  her  personal  feel- 
ings by  giving  out  that  a  serious  malady  required  a 
consultation  of  doctors  of  noted  skill  whom  it  was 
impossible  to  bring  from  Paris.  God  knows  what 
talk  this  made ;  but  the  devoted  aunt  saw  only  a 
nephew's  honor  to  be  saved,  more  precious  than  her 
own  feelings.  She  started.  Chesnel  brought  her  his 
last  bag  of  louis,  which  she  took  without  paying  heed 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  97 

to   them,    very   much   as   she   might  have   taken   her 
bonnet  and  mittens. 

''Generous  creature!  what  grace!"  thought  Ches- 
nel,  as  he  put  her  iuto  the  carriage  with  her  waiting- 
woman,  who  resembled  a  Gray  Sister. 


98  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 


VII. 

A     CRIME. 

Du  Croisier  had  calculated  his  vengeance  as  a  pro- 
vincial calculates  all  things.  None  but  savages, 
peasants,  and  provincials  study  their  affairs  to  the  very 
bottom  and  in  every  direction ;  consequently,  when 
they  pass  from  thought  to  act  their  scheme  will  be 
found  complete.  Diplomatists  are  babes  in  presence 
of  those  three  classes  of  mammifers,  who  have  time  on 
their  hands,  —  an  element  which  is  lacking  to  persons 
obliged  to  think  of  many  things  and  to  prepare  and 
conduct  the  great  affairs  of  statecraft. 

Had  du  Croisier  so  fathomed  the  heart  of  poor  Vic- 
turnien  that  he  foresaw  the  facility  with  which  the 
young  man  would  help  him  to  his  vengeance?  or  did 
he  profit  by  a  chance  watched  and  waited  for  during 
many  years?  Who  had  kept  du  Croisier  informed? 
Was  it  the  Kellers?  Was  it  the  son  of  du  Ronceret, 
who  was  now  at  the  Law-school  in  Paris? 

Du  Croisier  wrote  to  Victurnien  informing  him  that 
the  Kellers  were  forbidden  to  advance  him  any  further 
sums  at  the  moment  when,  as  the  provincial  banker 
knew,  the  Duchesse  cle  Maufrigneuse  was  in  the  last 
extremity  of  debt  and  embarrassment,  and  the  Comte 
d'Esgrignon  was  equally  pressed  by  horrible  though 
carefully    concealed    necessities.        The     unfortunate 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  99 

young  man  was  in  fact  employing;  all  the  powers  of  his 
mind  in  feigning  opulence.  This  letter,  telling  him 
that  the  Kellers  would  pay  him  no  more  money  until 
their  late  advances  were  made  good,  ended  with  the 
formulas  of  conventional  respect  between  which  and 
the  signature  a  somewhat  wide  space  of  blank  paper 
was  left.  By  cutting  off  this  portion  containing  the 
signature  a  draft  could  be  made  of  it,  by  which  to 
obtain  a  considerable  sum  of  money. 

When  the  letter  reached  him  Victurnien  fell  into  the 
depths  of  despair.  After  two  years  of  the  happiest, 
most  sensual,  least  thoughtful,  most  luxurious  life,  he 
suddenly  found  himself  face  to  face  with  inexorable 
poverty  and  an  absolute  impossibility  of  obtaining 
money.  His  journey  to  Italy  was  not  accomplished 
without  some  twinges  of  anxiety.  The  count  had  ex- 
torted with  difficulty,  the  duchess  aiding,  certain 
sums  from  various  bankers.  These  sums,  represented 
by  notes  of  hand,  would  presently  rise  up  before  him 
with  the  implacability  of  banks  and  commercial  law. 
In  the  midst  of  his  enjoyments  the  unfortunate  young 
man  had  felt  the  point  of  the  Commander's  sword. 
As  he  supped  he  heard,  like  Don  Juan,  the  Statue's 
heavy  tread  mounting  the  stairs.  He  felt  those  in- 
describable cold  chills  which  the  siroccos  of  debt  alone 
produce.  All  he  could  look  to  now  was  chance.  So 
far  he  had  been  lucky  in  the  lottery  of  life ;  his  purse 
had  been  kept  full.  He  told  himself  that  after  Ches- 
nel  had  come  du  Croisier,  and  after  du  Croisier  another 
mine  of  gold  would  turn  up.  Besides,  he  had  always 
won  large  sums  at  play.  Play  had  saved  him  in  sev- 
eral straits ;  though  often,   impelled  by  foolish  hope, 


100  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

he  would  lose  at  his  club  the  money  won  at  whist  in 
private  houses. 

His  life,  for  the  last  two  months,  had  resembled  the 
immortal  end  of  Mozart's  Don  Juan.  The  music  of 
that  opera  ought  to  make  young  men  in  Victurnien's 
position  tremble.  If  anything  can  prove  the  mighty 
power  of  music,  it  is  this  magnificent  rendering  of  a 
disorderly  existence  and  the  troubles  that  come  of 
a  life  exclusively  voluptuous,  — this  terrifying  picture 
of  a  man  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all  warnings,  making 
himself  indifferent  to  debts,  duels,  deceptions,  dangers. 
Mozart  in  this  opera  is  the  successful  rival  of  Moliere. 
The  terrible  finale,  fiery,  vigorous,  desperate,  jovial, 
full  of  horrible  phantoms  and  goblin  women,  ending 
in  a  last  effort  made  amid  the  fumes  of  wine  in  frantic 
self-defence,  —  all  this  infernal  poem  Victurnien  was 
beginning  to  play  in  his  secret  soul.  He  saw  himself 
alone,  abandoned,  without  friends,  before  a  stone  on 
which  wTas  written,  as  at  the  close  of  some  delightful 
book,  the  word  finis. 

Yes  !  all  was  indeed  coming  to  an  end  for  him.  He 
saw,  in  advance,  the  cold  and  scornfully  sarcastic  look 
and  smile  with  which  his  late  companions  would  receive 
the  news  of  his  disaster.  He  knew  that  among  them 
all,  men  who  threw  away  their  money  on  the  green 
tables  which  Paris  offers  everywhere,  at  the  Bourse, 
the  clubs,  the  salons,  not  one  would  part  with  a  single 
bank-bill  to  rescue  a  fallen  friend.  Chesnel  must  be 
ruined ;  yes,  he  had  sucked  Chesnel  dry.  When  he 
thought  of  the  duchess  all  the  Furies  were  in  his  heart, 
dividing  it  among  them.  As  he  rolled  down  this  pre- 
cipice of  doubt,  despair,  and  helplessness,  he,  who  loved 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  101 

■ 

life  to  the  point  of  cowardly  action  to-  save  it,  even  he 
looked  at  his  pistols  ;  he  went  so  far  as  to  think  of 
suicide,  —  he,  that  worthless  voluptuary,  unworthy  of 
his  name.  And  he  knew  his  unworthiuess ;  he,  who 
had  never  endured  the  mere  semblance  of  blame,  now 
overwhelmed  himself  with  those  dreadful  reproaches 
which  the  human  heart  never  hears  except  from  itself. 

What  remained  to  him  now  but  flight?  Alas!  in 
three  days  he  must  be  gone,  if  he  would  escape  arrest ; 
for  his  notes  were  now  falling  due.  An  atrocious 
thought  suddenly  flashed  into  his  brain;  he  would  fly 
with  the  duchess,  live  in  some  unknown  place,  in  the 
wilds  of  North  or  South  America ;  but  —  he  would  fly 
with  a  fortune,  leaving  his  creditors  to  face  their 
losses.  To  accomplish  this  plan  he  had  only  to  cut 
off  the  end  of  the  letter  signed  by  du  Croisier,  make  a 
draft  of  it,  and  carrv  it  to  the  Kellers.  The  struggle 
in  his  soul  was  awful ;  tears  were  shed,  and  the  honor 
of  his  race  triumphed  momentarily,  but  only  on  con- 
ditions. Victurnien  resolved  to  be  sure  of  his  Diane ; 
he  made  the  execution  of  his  scheme  contingent  on 
her  consent  to  their  flight.  He  went  to  the  duchess 
and  found  her  in  one  of  those  elegant  and  coquettish 
morning  toilets,  requiring  as  much  care  and  thought 
as  money,  which  enabled  her  to  begin  her  role  of  angel 
by  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

Madame  de  Maufrigneuse  was  somewhat  pensive ; 
the  same  anxieties  consumed  her,  but  she  bore  them 
courageously.  Among  the  divers  organizations  which 
physiologists  have  remarked  in  women  there  is  one 
which  is,  I  may  say,  terrible  ;  which  combines  vigor 
of  soul,  clearness  of  perception,  promptitude  of  decision 


102  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

with  cool  Composure,  or  rather  a  settled  purpose  about 
certain  things  that  a  man  fears.  These  faculties  are 
concealed  by  an  external  show  of  graceful  weakness. 
Such  women,  and  they  alone  among  women,  represent 
the  union,  or  rather  the  struggle,  of  two  beings  in  one 
which  Buff  on  reports  as  existing  only  in  the  human 
race.  Other  women  are  wholly  women ;  they  are  en- 
tirely tender,  entirely  mothers,  entirely  devoted,  entirely 
dull  and  wearisome ;  their  nerves  are  in  harmony  with 
their  blood,  and  their  blood  with  their  heads.  But 
women  like  the  duchess  can  attain  to  the  loftiest  sensi- 
bility, and  yet  give  proofs  of  an  utterly  selfish  insensi- 
bility. One  of  Moliere's  glories  is  to  have  painted 
wonderfully  the  nature  of  such  women,  in  one  of  the 
greatest  figures  which  he  carved  in  marble, —  Celimene ; 
Celimene,  who  represents  the  aristocratic  woman,  just 
as  Figaro,  that  second  edition  of  Pan  urge,  represents 
the  people. 

Crushed  beneath  the  weight  of  enormous  debts,  the 
duchess  had  ordered  herself,  precisely  as  Napoleon 
took  up  and  laid  clown  at  will  the  burden  of  his 
thoughts,  not  to  think  of  that  avalanche  of  cares  for 
more  than  a  single  moment  in  which  to  choose  a 
definite  course.  She  had  the  faculty  of  separating 
herself  from  herself,  and  of  contemplating  disaster  at 
arm's  length,  instead  of  letting  it  overwhelm  her.  This 
was  certainly  fine,  but  also  horrible  in  a  woman.  The 
perils  of  her  position  had  now  culminated.  Between 
the' hour  when  she  woke  and  began  to  think  of  them, 
and  the  hour  when  she  rose  and  made  that  charming 
toilet,  she  had  contemplated  her  danger  under  all  its 
aspects   and    recognized    the    possibility  of  a    terrible 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  103 

end.  She  meditated :  should  she  fly  to  foreign  coun- 
tries ;  or  go  to  the  king  and  declare  her  debts  ?  Should 
she  seduce  a  du  Tillet,  or  a  Nucingen,  and  gamble 
through  them  at  the  Bourse  ?  Those  bourgeois  bankers 
would  have  the  wit  to  share  the  profits  with  her  and 
make  no  talk  of  losses.  These  various  means  and  the 
impending  catastrophe  were  coldly  and  calmly  deliber- 
ated in  her  mind,  without  the  least  trepidation.  As 
a  naturalist  puts  the  finest  of  his  lepidoptera  aside  and 
fastens  it  on  cotton  with  a  pin,  so  Madame  de  Mau- 
frioneuse  took  her  love  out  of  her  heart  in  order  to 
think  over  her  necessities,  intending  to  take  back  her 
emotions  and  her  role  of  angel  as  soon  as  she  had 
saved  her  ducal  coronet.  There  was  no  such  hesita- 
tion in  her  mind  as  Richelieu  confessed  to  Pere  Joseph, 
and  Napoleon  concealed  from  all  the  world.  She  said 
to  herself  distinctly,   "  Either  this  or  that." 

She  was  sitting  beside  the  fire  in  her  dressing-room, 
choosing  her  toilet  for  the  Bois,  if  the  weather  per- 
mitted, when  Victurnien  was  announced. 

In  spite  of  his  stifled  capacities  and  his  clever  mind, 
the  count  was  now  in  a  condition  which  ought  to  have 
been  that  of  the  duchess.  He  trembled,  his  heart 
throbbed,  he  perspired  in  his  dandy  trappings,  he  dared 
not  as  yet  lay  hands  upon  that  corner-stone  which,  if 
withdrawn,  would  bring  down  the  tottering  pyramid 
of  their  mutual  existence.  It  would  cost  him  so  much 
to  gain  certainty.  The  strongest  men  like  to  deceive 
themselves  about  certain  things  when  the  naked  truth 
would  humiliate  them  in  their  own  minds.  Victurnien 
forced  himself  out  of  his  hesitation  by  launching  at 
once  a  revealing  sentence. 


104  The   G-allery  of  Antiquities. 

"  What  is  the  matter?"  were  Diane's  first  words  as 
she  saw  the  troubled  aspect  of  her  dear  Victurnien. 

"  My  dear  Diane,  I  am  in  such  distress  that  a  man 
at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,  at  his  last  gasp,  is  better  off 
than  I." 

"Pooh!"  she  cried,  "some  foolishness;  you  are 
nothing  but  a  child.     What  is  it?     Tell  me." 

"  I  am  overwhelmed  with  debt,  and  I  have  come  face 
to  face  with  a  wall." 

"Is  that  all?"  she  said,  laughing.  "All  money 
matters  can  be  arranged  in  one  way  or  another ; 
nothing  is  irreparable  but  the  disasters  of  the  heart." 

Consoled  by  this  immediate  acceptance  of  his  posi- 
tion, Victurnien  unfolded  the  brilliant  tapestry  of  his 
life  for  the  last  thirty  months,  showing  the  wrong 
side,  with  much  talent  and,  above  all,  much  wit.  His 
tale  was  full  of  that  poesy  of  the  moment  which  never 
fails  a  person  in  great  crises,  and  which  he  varnished 
with  an  elegant  contempt  for  men  and  things. 

This  was  aristocratic.  The  duchess  listened  as  she 
knew  how  to  listen,  with  her  elbow  on  her  knee,  which 
was  raised  quite  high.  Her  foot  was  on  a  stool,  her 
fingers  prettily  clasping  her  pretty  chin.  She  kept  her 
eyes  on  the  count,  but  myriads  of  sentiments  flitted 
across  their  blue,  like  flashes  of  lightning  in  the  still 
heavens.  Her  forehead  was  calm,  her  mouth  gravely 
attentive,  its  lips  hanging  on  those  of  Victurnien. 
To  be  listened  to  thus  was  surely  enough  to  make  a 
man  believe  that  love  divine  was  emanating  from  that 
heart.  Accordingly,  when  Victurnien  proposed  flight 
to  this  soul  bound  to  his  soul,  the  beautiful  duchess 
answered  without  having  spoken,  and  so  led  the  young 
man  to  cry  out  once  more,  — 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  105 

"  You  are  an  ansrel !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  duchess,  who,  instead  of  giving 
way  to  the  love  she  was  expressing,  was  busy  with 
calculations  which  she  kept  to  herself;  "  but  that's  not 
the  point  now,  my  friend.  Let  us  think  of  you.  Yes, 
we  will  go,  and  the  sooner  the  better.  Arrange  it  all, 
and  I  will  follow  you.  It  will  be  a  fine  act  to  leave 
Paris  and  society  altogether.  I  will  make  my  prep- 
arations in  a  way  that    no  one  can  suspect." 

The  words  "I  will  follow  you"  were  said  as  the 
Mars  of  that  epoch  would  have  said  it  to  make  thou- 
sands of  spectators  thrill.  When  a  Duchesse  de  Mau- 
frigneuse  offers  in  such  a  sentence  such  a  sacrifice  to 
love,  she  has  paid  all  debts. 

Victurnien  was  the  better  able  to  hide  the  means  he 
intended  to  employ  because  Diane  took  care  to  make 
no  inquiries.  She  was  a  guest,  as  de  Marsay  quoted, 
"at  the  banquet  of  life,"  crowned  with  the  roses  all 
men  were  bound  to  bring  her.  Victurnien  did  not  go 
until  that  promise  was  reiterated ;  he  wanted  pledges 
of  his  happiness  from  which  to  draw  courage  for  the 
action  which  would  surely  be,  he  said  to  himself, 
misinterpreted.  But  he  relied,  when  the  worst  came, 
on  his  aunt  and  father  to  stifle  scandal ;  he  counted 
upon  Chesnel  to  invent  some  compromise.  Besides, 
the  affair  was  the  only  possible  way  in  which  he  could 
raise  a  forced  loan  upon  the  family  estates.  With 
three  hundred  thousand  francs  he  and  the  duchess 
could  go  away  and  live  happily ;  hidden  in  a  Venetian 
palazzo  they  could  forget  the  world. 

The  next  day  Victurnien  made  a  draft  of  three 
hundred  thousand  francs  and  took  it  to  the  Kellers. 


106  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

The  Kellers  paid  it.  They  had  funds  of  du  Croisier's 
in  their  hands ;  but  they  wrote  him  that  he  must  not 
draw  again  for  such  large  sums  without  giving  them 
due  notice.  Du  Croisier,  much  astonished,  asked  for 
his  account,  which  was  sent  to  him.  The  account  ex- 
plained all.     Vengeance  had  come  indeed ! 

When  Victurnien  obtained  the  money  he  carried  it 
to  Madame  du  Maufrigneuse  for  safe-keeping.  She 
locked  the  bank-bills  in  her  secretary,  and  then  de- 
clared she  must  go  to  the  Opera  for  the  last  time  and 
bid  it  adieu.  Victurnien  was  uneasy  and  absent-minded  ; 
he  was  beginning  to  reflect.  He  thought  that  his  place 
beside  the  duchess  at  the  Opera  might  cost  him  dear ; 
and  that  after  putting  his  three  hundred  thousand  francs 
in  safety,  he  had  better  have  gone  post-haste  to  Chesnel 
and  confessed  his  position. 

The  next  day,  at  three  o'clock,  he  was  at  the  hotel 
de  Maufrigneuse  to  take  his  Diane's  last  orders  for 
their  flight,  which  she  desired  should  take  place  after 
midnight. 

"  AVhy  should  we  go?  "  she  said.  "  I  have  thought 
over  your  project.  The  Vicomtesse  de  Beauseant  and 
the  Duchesse  de  Langeais  fled  and  disappeared.  My 
flight  would  be  such  a  very  commonplace  thing.  No, 
it  is  better  to  stay,  and  face  the  storm.  That  will  be 
much  finer.     I  am  sure  of  success." 

Victurnien  turned  giddy ;  he  fancied  his  skin  was 
melting  and  all  the  blood  in  his  body  flowing  out. 

u  What  is  the  matter?"  cried  the  beautiful  Diane, 
noticing  a  hesitation  she  was  the  last  woman  in  the 
world  to  foro-ive. 

Clever  men  ought  at  once  to  say  yes  to  all  a  woman's 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  107 

caprices,  and  merely  suggest  reasons  against  them, 
leaving  her  to  exercise  her  right  of  changing  ad  in- 
finitum her  ideas,  resolutions,  and  sentiments.  But 
Victurnien  for  the  first  time  showed  anger,  the  anger 
of  a  weak  nature,  a  storm  of  rain  and  lightning, 
but  no  thunder.  He  maltreated  his  angel,  trusting  in 
whom  he  had  sacrificed  more  than  life,  the  honor  of  his 
house. 

"  So,"  she  said,  "  this  is  my  return  for  eighteen 
months  of  tenderness  !  You  have  hurt  me  —  hurt  me 
very  much.  Go  away  !  I  do  not  wish  to  see  you 
again.  I  believed  that  you  loved  me,  but  you  do  not 
love  me." 

"Not  love  you !  "  he  exclaimed,  amazed  at  the 
reproach. 

"  No,  monsieur." 

"  But  —  "  he  cried.  "  Ah  !  if  you  only  knew  what  I 
have  just  done  for  you  !  " 

44  And  pray,  what  have  you  done  for  me?  "  she  said. 
"  Are  you  not  bound  to  do  all  for  a  woman  who  has 
done  so  much  for  you  ?  " 

"'  You  are  not  worthy  to  know  it !  "  cried  Victurnien, 
furiously. 

"Ah!" 

After  that  sublime  "  ah  !  "  Diane  bowed  her  head,  sup- 
ported it  on  her  hand,  and  remained  cold,  motionless, 
implacable,  as  the  angels,  who  do  not  share  in  human 
feelings,  ought  to  be. 

AYhen  Victurnien  beheld  her  in  that  terrible  pose,  he 
forgot  his  anger.  AYas  he  not  maltreating  the  most 
angelic  creature  upon  earth?  He  begged  for  pardon, 
he  threw  himself  at  Diane's  feet  and  kissed  them ;   he 


108  The    G-allery  of  Antiquities. 

implored,  he  wept.  For  two  hours  the  unfortunate  man 
committed  all  these  follies  only  to  meet  a  frigid  face, 
and  eyes  from  which  a  tear  rolled  silently  now  and 
then,  wiped  instantly  away  as  if  to  prevent  that  un- 
worthy lover  from  drying  it.  The  duchess  played  with 
much  success  one  of  those  griefs  which  make  a  woman 
auo'ust  and  sacred.  Two  more  hours  succeeded  the  first 
two ;  at  the  end  of  which  time  the  count  obtained  the 
hand  of  his  mistress,  but  it  was  cold  and  soulless.  That 
beautiful  hand  was  limp ;  it  said  nothing.  He  had 
taken  it;  it  was  not  given.  Life  departed  from  him; 
he  could  not  think ;  he  could  see  nothing,  not  even 
the  sun.  What  was  he  to  do?  Where  could  he  go? 
What  course  must  he  take?  Victurnien  simply  dropped 
into  a  doltish  stupor,  the  darkness  of  which  enveloped 
his  brain.  Through  that  gloomy  mist  passed  visions 
like  those  that  Raffaelle  painted  on  dark  backgrounds, 
visions  of  sensual  pleasures  to  which  he  was  now  to  bid 
adieu  forever. 

Inexorable  and  contemptuous,  the  duchess  played  with 
an  end  of  her  scarf,  casting  irritated  glances  at  Vic- 
turnien. She  recalled  her  early  memories ;  she  talked 
of  her  former  lovers,  as  if  Victurnien's  anger  decided 
her  to  let  one  of  them  displace  a  man  who  after  eigh- 
teen months  of  devotion  on  her  part  could  so  ill-treat 
her. 

"Ah!"  she  said,  "that  dear,  charming  Felix  de 
Vandenesse,  so  faithful  to  Madame  de  Mortsauf,  would 
never  have  made  her  such  a  scene  as  this,  —  he  knew 
how  to  love  !  And  de  Marsay,  that  terrible  de  Marsay 
whom  all  the  world  thinks  so  tigerish,  is  one  of  those 
strong  souls  who  are  rough  with  men,  but  all  delicacy 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  109 

with  women.  Montriveau  crushed  underfoot  poor 
Antoinette  de  Langeais,  as  Othello  killed  Desdemona, 
in  a  fit  of  anger,  which  only  proved  his  love,  —  not 
meanly,  in  a  petty  quarrel!  There's  pleasure  in  being 
bruised  in  that  way !  But  all  small,  fair,  thin,  slim 
men  like  to  torture  women  ;  they  can  only  reign  over 
such  weak  beiugs ;  the  tyranny  of  love  is  their  only 
chance  of  power.  Why  had  she  ever  put  herself  under 
the  dominion  of  such  a  man?  De  Marsay,  Montriveau, 
Vandenesse,  those  handsome  brown  men,  had  sunlight 
in  their  eyes." 

A  storm  of  such  sarcasms  whistled  round  him  like 
bullets.  Diane  delivered  three  arrows  in  each  speech ; 
she  humiliated,  she  piqued,  she  wounded  as  a  dozen 
savages  know  how  to  wound  an  enemy  they  have  tied 
to  a  stake. 

The  count  at  last  cried  out,  in  fury,  "You  are 
crazy ! "  and  rushed  out,  Heaven  knows  in  what  a 
state !  He  drove  his  horse  unconscious  where  he 
went ;  he  jostled  other  carriages  and  struck  against  a 
post  in  the  Place  Louis  XV.,  until  at  last  his  horse, 
feeling  that  no  one  held  him,  ran  off  along  the  Quai 
d'Orsay  to  his  stable.  As  he  turned  into  the  rue  de 
riJniversite,  the  cabriolet  was  stopped  by  Josephin. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  old  servant,  with  a  terrified 
look,  "  you  cannot  go  home,  the  officers  are  there  to 
arrest  you."  ' 

Victurnien  supposed  the  arrest  to  be  in  consequence 
of  his  draft  on  the  Kellers,  not  reflecting  that  it 
could  not  possibly  have  got  into  the  hands  of  the  law 
by  that  time.  The  cause  was,  of  course,  the  notes  he 
had  drawn  on  the  various  bankers,  which  after  going 


110  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

through  the  usual  legal  process  were  now  in  the  hands 
of  the  commercial  police,  with  an  accompaniment  of 
gendarmes  and  other  representatives  of  social  order. 
But,  like  most  criminals,  Victurnien  thought  only  of 
his  crime. 

"  I  am  lost !  "  he  cried. 

4 '  No,  Monsieur  le  comte,  drive  on ;  go  to  the  hotel 
du  Bon  La  Fontaine,  rue  de  Grenelle.  You  will  find 
Mademoiselle  there  ;  the  horses  are  put  to  her  carriage  ; 
she  is  expecting  you,  and  will  take  you  at  once  out 
of  Paris." 

In  his  trouble  Victurnien  seized  this  plank  offered  to 
his  hand  in  the  midst  of  the  shipwreck.  He  drove 
to  the  hotel,  found  his  aunt,  who  was  weeping  like 
a  Magdalen  as  if  she  were  the  accomplice  of  her 
nephew's  misdeeds.  They  both  got  into  Mademoiselle 
Armande's  carriage,  and  a  few  moments  later  they 
were  out  of  Paris  on  the  road  to  Brest.  Victurnien, 
completely  broken  down,  was  silent;  and  when  at  last 
the  aunt  and  nephew  said  a  few  words  to  each  other, 
they  were  still  misled  b}T  the  quiproquo  which  had  flung 
Victurnien  into  his  aunt's  arms.  The  nephew  was  think- 
ing of  his  forgery  ;  the  aunt,  of  his  debts  and  the  bills 
of  exchange. 

"  Do  you  know  all,  aunt?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,  my  poor  child;  but  we  are  here.  At  this 
moment  I  will  not  scold  you;   take  courage." 

"  I  must  hide  myself." 

44  Perhaps.     Yes,  the  idea  is  a  good  one." 

44  If  I  could  enter  Chesnel's  house  without  being 
seen  —  We  might  manage  to  arrive  in  the  middle  of 
the  night." 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  Ill 

"It  would  be  better;  we  should  be  more  able  to 
conceal  the  affair  from  my  brother.  My  poor  angel! 
how  he  suffers ! "  she  said,  caressing  her  unworthy 
nephew. 

44  Oh  !  I  now  understand  dishonor,  — it  has  chilled 
my  love." 

"Unhappy  boy!  so  much  happiness,  and  so  much 
misery !  " 

Mademoiselle  Armande  held  the  burning  head  of  her 
nephew  upon  her  breast ;  she  kissed  that  forehead 
bathed  in  sweat  notwithstanding  the  cold,  as  the 
saintly  women  kissed  the  brow  of  the  Christ  when 
they  wrapped  him  in  his  shroud.  By  her  excellent 
management,  the  prodigal  son  was  brought  to  Ches- 
nel's  peaceful  house  at  midnight ;  but  chance  provided 
that  by  going  there  he  was  flung,  as  the  proverb  says, 
into  the  jaws  of  the  wolf. 

Chesnel,  the  evening  before,  had  sold  his  practice 
to  the  head  clerk  of  Monsieur  Lepressoir,  the  notary 
of  the  liberals,  as  he  himself  was  the  notary  of  the 
aristocrats.  This  young  man  belonged  to  a  family 
rich  enough  to  give  Chesnel  one  hundred  thousand 
francs  on  account  for  the  purchase. 

44  With  one  hundred  thousand  francs,"  thought  the 
worthy  man,  rubbing  his  hands,  "we  can  wipe  out 
many  debts.  The  young  count  must  owe  to  usurers ; 
we  '11  shut  him  up  here,  and  I  '11  go  to  Paris  and  com- 
promise with  those  dogs." 

Chesnel,  the  honest,  virtuous  Chesnel,  called  the 
legitimate  creditors  of  the  family  darling  "  dogs  !  ' 

The  new  notary  was  leaving  the  rue  du  Bercail,  after 
making   these    arrangements,   just    as  the   carriage   of 


112  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

Mademoiselle  Armande  entered  it.  The  natural  curi- 
osity of  the  young  man,  who  saw  at  that  hour  a  travel- 
ling carriage  drawing  up  before  the  door  of  the  old 
notary,  was  sufficiently  aroused  to  induce  him.  to  stop 
in  the  shadow  of  a  doorway  and  watch  the  result.  He 
recognized  Mademoiselle  Armande. 

"Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon  here,  —  at  this  hour! 
What  can  have  happened  to  the  d'Esgrignons  ?  "  he 
thought. 

When  Chesnel,  who  came  to  his  door,  saw  Made- 
moiselle Armande,  he  received  her  mysteriously,  putting 
out  the  light  he  held  in  his  hand.  Seeing  Victurnien, 
the  good  man  understood  the  matter.  He  looked  up 
and  down  the  street,  thought  it  deserted,  and  made  a 
sign  to  the  young  count,  who  sprang  from  the  carriage 
into  the  courtyard.  In  that  moment  all  was  lost. 
Victurnien's  hiding-place  was  known  to  Chesnel's 
successor. 

"  Oh  !  Monsieur  le  comte !  "  cried  the  old  man,  when 
Victurnien  was  installed  in  a  chamber  within  Chesnel's 
study,  where  no  one  could  enter  without  passing  over 
the  body  of  that  faithful  guardian. 

"  Yes,  monsieur,"  replied  the  young  man,  compre- 
hending the  exclamation  of  his  old  friend,  "I  did  not 
listen  to  you,  and  now  I  have  fallen  into  a  pit  —  where 
I  shall  perish." 

"No,  no!"  said  Chesnel,  looking  triumphantly  at 
Mademoiselle  Armande  and  the  count;  "I  have  sold 
my  practice.  I  have  worked  long  and  I  was  thinking 
it  was  time  to  retire.  To-morrow,  at  twelve  o'clock,  I 
shall  have  a  hundred  thousand  francs  with  which  we 
can  soon  settle  matters.     Mademoiselle,"  he  continued, 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  11 


Q 


"you  must  be  tired;  go  home  now  and  go  to  bed. 
We  will  attend  to  business  to-morrow." 

"Is  he  safe?  "  she  asked,  looking  at  Victurnien. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  old  man. 

She  kissed  her  nephew,  left  a  few  tears  on  his  fore- 
head, and  went  away. 


8 


114  The    Gallery  of  Ayitiquities. 


VIII. 


CHESNEL     TO     THE     RESCUE. 


"  My  dear  Chesnel,  what  good  will  your  hundred 
thousand  francs  do  in  my  present  situation  ?  "  said  the 
count  to  his  old  friend,  when  his  aunt  had  left  them. 
"  I  think  you  don't  know  the  extent  of  my  disaster." 

Victurnien  explained  his  deed.  Chesnel  was  horror- 
struck.  Without  the  strength  his  devotion  gave  him 
he  would  have  broken  down  completely  under  the  blow. 
Two  streams  of  tears  flowed  from  his  eyes,  so  long 
dry.  He  was  childish  for  a  few  moments ;  during 
those  moments  he  was  beside  himself,  like  a  man  whose 
house  is  burning  and  who  sees  through  a  window  the 
cradle  of  his  child  on  fire  and  the  flames  lapping  his 
hair.  He  stood  up,  seemed  to  grow  taller,  raised  his 
aged  hands,  and  waved  them  with  insane,  despairing 
gestures. 

"  May  your  father  die  in  ignorance  of  this,  young 
man.  It  is  enough  to  be  a  forger;  God  grant  you  be 
not  a  parricide.  Fly?  No;  you  would  be  condemned 
by  default.  Unhappy  boy,  why  not  have  forged  my 
signature?  I  would  have  paid  ;  that  paper  would  never 
have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  law.  I  can  do  nothing 
more.  You  have  driven  me  to  the  last  corner  of  hell. 
Du  Croisier !  our  worst  enemy  !  What  will  become  of 
us?     What  can  be  done?     If  you  had    killed    a  man 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  115 

there  might  be  some  excuse,  but  forgery !  forgery ! 
And  time  is  going,  time  is  going !"  he  cried,  point- 
ing with  a  frantic  gesture  to  the  old  clock.  "We 
must  forge  a  passport  —  one  crime  leads  to  another. 
We  must  — "  He  paused,  and  then  added,  "Before 
all  else,  we  must  save  the  house  of  Esgrignon." 

"  The  money  is  still  with  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse," 
said  Victurnien. 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  Chesnel.  "  Well,  there  's  a  faint  hope 
in  that.  Could  we  only  soften  du  Croisier,  buy  him  off  ; 
he  shall  have  every  penny  of  the  family.  I  '11  go  to  him 
now;  I'll  wake  him  up,  and  offer  all.  Besides,  it  was 
not  you  who  committed  the  deed,  it  shall  be  I  —  I  will 
go  to  the  galleys  —  No,  I  have  passed  the  age  for  the 
galleys,  they  can  only  send  me  to  prison." 

"But  the  body  of  the  draft  is  in  my  handwriting," 
said  Victurnien,  not  amazed  at  the  insane  devotion  of 
the  old  man. 

"Idiot!  —  ah!  forgive  me,  Monsieur  le  comte. 
You  ought  to  have  made  Josephin  write  it,"  cried  the 
old  notary,  beside  himself.  "  He  's  a  good  fellow,  he  'd 
have  taken  all  upon  himself.  Ah  !  it  is  all  over ;  the 
earth  is  crumbling  at  our  feet,"  he  continued,  sitting 
down.  "Du  Croisier  is  a  tiger;  we  must  not  rouse 
him.  What  o'clock  is  it?  Where  is  the  draft?  If 
it  is  in  Paris  we  can  buy  it  back  of  the  Kellers ;  they 
would  agree  to  it.  All  is  peril,  peril !  one  false  step 
would  ruin  us!  In  any  case  we  must  have  that  money. 
Let  no  one  know  you  are  here ;  live  in  the  cellar  if 
necessary.  As  for  me,  I  am  going  to  Paris,  now,  at 
once ;  the  mail-coach  from  Brest  will  be  here  in  an 
hour." 


116  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

Instantly  the  old  man  recovered  the  faculties  of  his 
youth,  agility  and  vigor.  He  hastily  made  a  bundle  of 
clothes,  took  some  money,  put  a  loaf  of  bread  in  the  lit- 
tle room,  and  shut  the  door  on  the  child  of  his  adoption. 

"No  noise,"  he  said.  '*  Stay  there  till  my  return; 
burn  no  light,  or  you  will  go  to  the  galleys.  Do  you 
hear  me,  Monsieur  le  comte?  I  say  the  galleys,  if  in 
a  town  like  ours  a  single  soul  knows  }Tou  are  here." 

Then  the  old  man  left  the  house,  after  telling  his 
housekeeper  to  say  that  he  was  ill,  and  to  send  away 
all  visitors,  put  off  all  household  affairs  for  three  days, 
and  keep  the  door  locked.  Then  he  went  to  the  post- 
master and  told  him  a  tale  —  for  he  seemed  to  have  the 
genius  of  a  novelist — by  which  he  obtained  permis- 
sion to  depart  without  a  passport.  Fortunately  for  him 
the  mail  coach  was  empty. 

Arriving  the  next  night  in  Paris,  Chesnel  was  with 
the  Kellers  the  following  morning  by  nine  o'clock,  and 
there  learned  that  the  fatal  draft  had  been  returned 
to  du  Croisier.  While  making  these  inquiries,  he  was 
careful  to  say  nothing  compromising,  but  before  leav- 
ing he  asked  the  bankers  whether,  in  case  the  money 
were  paid  to  them,  they  would  send  for  the  paper  and 
return  it  to  him.  Francois  Keller  replied  that  the 
draft  was  the  property  of  du  Croisier,  and  he  alone 
could  return  it,  or  keep  it,  as  he  chose.  The  despair- 
ing old  man  then  went  to  the  duchess. 

At  that  hour  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse  received  no 
one.  Chesnel,  knowing  that  time  was  precious,  sat 
down  in  the  antechamber,  wrote  a  few  lines  which  he 
entreated,  implored,  persuaded  the  most  inaccessible  of 
lacqueys    to    carry  in    to    her.      On   receiving  it,   the 


The   G-allery  of  Antiquities.  117 

duchess,  although  she  was  still  in  bed,  gave  orders,  to 
the  great  astonishment  of  her  servants,  that  an  old  man 
in  black  breeches,  ribbed  socks,  and  shoe-buckles, 
should  be  admitted. 

"What  is  it,  monsieur?"  she  said,  assuming  an 
attitude  even  in  her  night-dress.  "  What  does  that 
ungrateful  young  man  desire  of  me?" 

"  This,  Madame  la  duchesse,"  cried  the  old  notary; 
"  you  have  three  hundred  thousand  francs  of  ours." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  and  what  of  that?  " 

"That  sum  is  the  result  of  a  forgery  which  will  send 
us  to  the  galleys,  and  we  committed  it  for  love  of 
you,"  said  Chesnel,  vehemently.  "  How  could  you  fail 
to  kuow  it,  you,  so  clever?  You  ought  to  have  ques- 
tioned him  on  the  spot  about  that  money,  and  saved 
him  while  there  was  yet  time.  Now,  God  grant  that  the 
evil  be  not  irreparable !  We  need  your  influence  with 
the  king." 

At  the  first  words,  which  explained  to  her  the  affair, 
the  duchess  felt  ashamed  of  her  conduct  with  such  a 
lover,  and  feared  to  be  suspected  of  complicity.  In  her 
desire  to  show  that  the  money  was  intact,  she  forgot 
the  proprieties,  and  flinging  off  the  silken  quilt,  she 
ran  to  her  writing-table,  passing  the  old  notary  like 
one  of  those  angels  which  dart  across  Lamartine's 
vignettes ;  then  she  returned,  blushing,  to  her  bed, 
after  giving  the  bank-bills  to  Chesnel. 

"You  are  an  angel,  madame,"  he  said.  (She  was 
fated  to  be  an  angel  to  every  one.)  "  But  this  is  not 
enough.     I  rely  on  your  support  to  save  us." 

"  To  save  you  !  "  she  cried  ;  "  I  will  do  it,  or  perish. 
A  man  must  love   well   not  to  shrink   from   a  crime. 


118  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

Ah !  for  what  sort  of  woman  was  such  a  thing  clone ! 
Poor  boy !  Go,  don't  lose  a  moment's  time,  dear 
Monsieur  Chesnel.  Rely  upon  me  as  you  would  upon 
yourself." 

"Madame  la  duchesse !  Madame  la  duchesse ! " 
The  old  notary  could  say  nothing  beyond  those 
words ;  he  was  overcome.  He  wept,  he  would  fain 
have  danced,  but  he  feared  to  go  quite  mad  and  he 
restrained  himself. 

"  Together  we  can  save  him,"  he  said  as  he  left 
her. 

Chesnel  went  to-  Victurnien's  house  to  find  Josephin, 
who  opened  for  him  the  secretary  and  writing-table 
that  held  the  papers  of  the  young  count,  where  he 
fortunately  found  letters  from  du  Croisier  and  the 
Kellers  which  might  prove  useful.  Then  he  took  a 
seat  in  the  diligence,  which  started  immediately.  He 
paid  the  postilions  to  make  the  lumbering  vehicle  go 
at  the  pace  of  a  mail-coach,  and  the  distance  was 
rapidly  covered.  The  notary  returned  to  the  rue  du 
Bercail  after  three  days'  absence  —  alas!  too  late.  As 
he  entered  the  street,  Chesnel  saw  the  gendarmes  at 
his  .gate,  and  when  he  reached  it  the  young  count  was 
in  the  courtyard,  arrested  !  Assuredly,  if  he  had  had 
the  power,  Chesnel  would  have  killed  the  police  and 
the  soldiers ;  but  he  was  helpless,  and  could  only  fling 
himself  on  Victurnien's  neck. 

"  If  I  do  not  succeed  in  smothering  this  matter,  you 
must  kill  yourself  before  the  indictment  is  found,"  he 
whispered  in  the  young  man's  ear. 

Victurnien  was  so  completely  stupefied  that  he  could 
only  look  at  the  notary  without  comprehending  him. 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  119 

"  Kill  myself?  "  he  repeated. 

"  Yes.  If  you  have  not  the  courage,  count  on  me, 
my  child,"  replied  Chesnel,  pressing  his  hand. 

He  remained,  in  spite  of  the  anguish  the  sight  caused 
him,  standing  on  his  trembling  legs,  gazing  at  the  son 
of  his  heart,  the  Comte  d'Esgrignon,  the  heir  of  the 
great  family,  being  marched  away  between  two  gen- 
darmes followed  by  the  commissary  of  police,  the  juge 
de  paix,  and  the  court  sheriff.  The  old  man  did  not  re- 
cover his  nerve  and  his  presence  of  mind  until  the 
group  had  disappeared  and  the  silence  was  no  longer 
broken  by  the  sound  of  retreating  steps. 

"  Monsieur,  you  '11  take  cold,"  said  Brigitte. 

"  The  devil  take  you!  "  cried  the  notary,  savagely. 

Brigitte,  who  had  never  heard  such  language  in  all  the 
twenty-nine  years  she  had  lived  with  Chesnel,  let  fall 
her  candle.  But  her  master,  taking  no  notice  of  her 
fright,  suddenly  started  forth  and  began  to  run  toward 
the  Val-Noble. 

"He's  mad,"  thought  she,  "  and  it  is  no  wonder! 
But  where  is  he  going?  I  can't  follow  him.  What 
will  become  of  him?     Will  he  drown  himself?" 

Brigitte  awoke  the  head-clerk  and  sent  him  to  watch 
the  banks  of  the  river,  lately  made  cruelly  notorious  by 
the  suicide  of  a  young  man  full  of  promise,  and  the 
recent  death  of  a  poor  seduced  young  girl. 

Chesnel,  however,  had  gone  to  du  Croisier's  house. 
There  lay,  he  thought,  the  last  hope.  The  crime  of 
forgery  can  only  be  proceeded  against  on  the  complaint 
of  private  persons.  If  du  Croisier  could  be  brought  to 
consent  it  was  still  possible  to  pass  off  the  arrest  as  a 
misunderstanding.     Chesnel  hoped  to  buy  the  man. 


120  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

During  the  preceding  evening  more  persons  than 
usual  had  called  upon  Monsieur  and  Madame  du 
Croisier.  Though  the  affair  had  been  kept  a  secret  be- 
tween the  chief-justice,  Monsieur  du  Ronceret,  Monsieur 
Sauvager,  deputy -procureur-du-roi,  and  Monsieur  du 
Coudrai,  lately  keeper  of  the  records,  the  former  had 
whispered  it  to  one  or  two  intimate  friends.  The  news 
had  therefore  spread  through  the  society  of  the  lesser 
nobility  and  the  bourgeoisie,  who  were  drawn  to  du 
Croisier's  house  by  curiosity.  They  all  felt  the  gravity 
of  such  an  event  and  dared  not  speak  of  it  openly. 
The  attachment  of  Madame  du  Croisier  to  the  higher 
nobility  was  too  well-known  to  allow  of  their  gossip- 
ing of  a  disaster  to  the  d'Esorionons  and  asking  ex- 
planations  in  her  presence.  Those  most  interested 
waited  the  hour  when  the  good  Madame  du  Croisier 
retired  to  her  own  bedroom,  where  she  fulfilled  her 
evening  religious  duties  secure  from  the  eyes  of  her 
husband. 

The  instant  that  the  mistress  of  the  house  had  dis- 
appeared, the  adherents  of  du  Croisier  who  knew  the 
sentiments  of  their  host,  looked  round  at  one  another. 
They  saw  in  the  salon  certain  persons  whose  opin- 
ions or  interests  made  them  suspected,  and  they  con- 
tinued to  play.  At  half-past  eleven  o'clock,  however, 
no  one  remained  but  the  faithful,  —  namely,  Monsieur 
Sauvager,  Monsieur  Camnsot,  the  examining-judge  and 
his  wife,  Monsieur  and  Madame  du  Ronceret  and  their 
son  Fabien,  Monsieur  and  Madame  du  Coudrai,  and 
Joseph  Blondet,  eldest  son  of  an  old  judge,  —  in  all, 
ten  persons. 

It  is  told  that  Talleyrand,  on  a  fatal  night,  at  three 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  121 

in  the  morning,  while  playing  cards  at  the  house  of  the 
Duchesse  de  Lnynes,  stopped  the  game,  laid  his  watch 
on  the  table,  and  asked  the  players  if  the  Prince  de 
Conde  had  any  other  child  than  the  Due  d'Enghien. 

"  Why  do  you  ask  a  thing  you  know  so  well?  "  said 
Madame  de  Luynes. 

"Because  if  the  prince  has  no  other  children,  the 
house  of  Conde  is  at  an  end." 

After  a  short  silence,  he  took  up  his  cards  and  went 
on  with  the  game. 

Monsieur  du  Ronceret  now  did  something  of  the 
kind,  — whether  it  was  that  he  knew  that  historical  in- 
cident, or  that  small  minds  resemble  great  ones  in  the 
expressions  of  political  life.  He  looked  at  his  watch 
and  said,  interrupting  the  game  :  — 

"  Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Esgrignon  is  now  being  ar- 
rested,  and  that  proud  house  is  disgraced." 

"Have  you  really  laid  hands  on  the  boy?"  cried  du 
Coudrai,  joyously. 

All  present,  except  the  chief-justice,  the  assistant- 
procureur,  and  du  Croisier,  showed  signs  of  astonish- 
ment. 

"He  has  just  been  arrested  in  Chesnel's  house, 
where  he  was  hiding,"  said  the  assistant-proc?ow//\  with 
the  air  of  a  capable  but  neglected  man,  who  ought  by 
rights  to  be  minister  of  police. 

This  Monsieur  Sauvager,  assistant-procure?^,  was  a 
young  man  twenty-five  j^ears  old,  tall  and  thin,  with  a 
long,  sallow  face,  black,  crinkled  hair,  and  sunken  eyes 
with  a  dark  half-circle  beneath  them,  the  same  repeated 
above  by  his  brown  and  wrinkled  eyelids.  He  had  a 
nose  like  the  beak  of  a  bird  of  prey,  a  pinched  mouth, 


122  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

cheeks  flattened  by  study  and  hollow  with  ambition. 
He  was  the  type  of  those  beings  who  are  ever  on  the 
watch  for  chances,  ready  to  do  anything  that  would 
bring  him  success,  yet  always  keeping  within  the 
limits  of  the  allowable  and  the  decorum  of  legality. 

The  news  seemed  more  especially  to  surprise  the 
examining-judge,  Monsieur  Camusot,  who,  on  the  re- 
quisition of  Sauvager,  had  signed  the  warrant  of  arrest 
so  promptly  executed.  Camusot  was  a  man  about 
thirty  years  of  age,  short,  already  fat,  fair,  and  flabby, 
with  the  livid  complexion  of  most  magistrates  who  sit 
cooped  up  in  their  court-rooms  and  offices.  He  had 
light  yellow  eyes  full  of  that  distrust  which  passes  for 
caution. 

Madame  Camusot  looked  at  her  husband  as  if  she 
would  say,   "  Did  n't  I  tell  you  so?  " 

"  So  the  affair  will  really  proceed?  "  he  said. 

"Why  should  you  doubt  it?"  replied  du  Coudrai ; 
"  the  count's  arrest  decides  it." 

"  There  's  the  jury  to  be  considered.  In  this  affair 
the  prefect  is  very  likely  to  take  advantage  of  objec- 
tions on  both  sides  and  make  it  up  of  men  who  will 
favor  an  acquittal.     My  advice  is  to  compromise." 

"  Compromise  !  "  cried  the  chief-justice  ;  "  why,  the 
affair  is  already  before  the  court." 

"  Acquitted  or  condemned,  Comte  d'Esgrignon  is 
none  the  less  disgraced,"  said  the  assistant-proc^re^r. 

"  I  am  the  complainant,"  said  du  Croisier ;  "  I  shall 
employ  the  elder  Dupin.  We  '11  see  if  the  house  of 
Esgriguon  can  get  out  of  his  clutches. " 

"  They  know  how  to  defend  themselves  ;  they  '11  send 
to    Paris    for   a   barrister, — Berryer,    perhaps,"    said 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  123 

Madame  Camusot.  "You'll  see  they'll  give  you  tit 
for  tat." 

Du  Croisier,  Sauvager,  and  du  Ronceret  all  three 
looked  at  the  examining-judge,  struck  with  the  same 
idea.  The  tone  and  manner  in  which  the  young  wife 
flung  her  proverb  in  the  face  of  the  eight  persons  who 
were  plotting  the  fall  of  the  house  of  Esgrignon 
caused  them  an  emotion  which  each  endeavored  to  hide, 
like  true  provincials  in  whom  there  still  remains  much 
of  monkish  life.  Little  Madame  Camusot  observed 
the  change  that  came  over  the  faces  present  at  the 
suggestion  of  a  probable  opposition  to  du  Croisier's 
scheme.  Seeing  that  her  husband  had  betrayed  his 
secret  thoughts,  she  became  anxious  to  fathom  the 
depth  of  these  hatreds,  and  to  discover  by  what  bait  du 
Croisier  had  influenced  the  assistant-procure^*  to  act 
with  such  haste  and  in  a  manner  so  contrary  to  the 
views  of  the  government. 

"  At  any  rate,"  she  said,  "  if  this  affair  brings  down 
any  of  the  celebrated  lawyers  of  Paris,  it  will  give  us 
some  very  interesting  sessions  in  the  court  of  assizes. 
But  you  may  be  sure  the  matter  will  drop  between  the 
justice  court  and  the  royal  court.  The  government 
will  do  all  it  can  secretly  to  save  a  j'oung  man  belong- 
ing to  the  great  families,  and  a  friend  of  the  Duchesse 
de  Maufrigneuse.  Therefore  I  predict  we  shall  have 
no  scandal  about  it." 

"  How  you  run  on,  madame  !  "  said  the  chief- justice, 
severely.  "Do  you  suppose  that  the  court  which 
examines  into  the  affair  in  the  first  instance  can  be  in- 
fluenced by  considerations  outside  of  the  law?  ' 

"  Facts  prove  the  contrary,"  she  replied  maliciously, 


124  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

looking  straight  at  the  chief-justice  and  the  assistant- 
procureur,  who  replied  to  the  look  with  a  stony 
stare. 

"  Explain  yourself,  madame,"  said  Sauvager.  il  You 
speak  as  if  we  were  not  doing  our  duty." 

"  My  wife's  words  are  of  no  consequence,"  inter- 
posed Cam  u  sot. 

"  But  those  of  the  chief-justice  prejudge,  as  I  think, 
a  case  which  has  not  yet  been  examined,"  she  said. 
"  The  examination  has  not  been  made,  and  the  court 
has  rendered  no  decision  on  the  question  of  indictment." 

"  We  are  not  at  the  Palais,"  said  the  assistant- 
procureur,  sharply.     "  Besides,  we  know  all  that." 

"  Well,  the  procureur-du-roi  as  yet  knows  nothing," 
she  retorted,  looking  at  Sauvager  satirically.  "  He  '11 
come  down  from  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  in  all  haste. 
You  have  cut  him  out  a  little  work,  and  he  will  no 
doubt  have  a  word  to  say  about  it." 

The  bushy  eyebrows  of  the  assistant^rocureur 
frowned  heavily,  and  those  present  saw  written  on  his 
forehead  the  signs  of  a  tardy  regret.  Silence  fol- 
lowed, during  which  no  sound  was  heard  but  the  tak- 
ing up  and  throwing  down  of  cards.  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Camusot,  who  saw  that  they  were  very  coldly 
treated,  went  away  to  leave  the  conspirators  at  their 
ease. 

"  Camusot,"  said  his  wife,  as  soon  as  they  were  in 
the  street,  "you  went  ahead  too  fast.  Why  did  you 
let  those  people  suspect  you  did  not  share  their 
schemes?  —  they  '11  play  you  some  evil  trick." 

"  How  can  they  injure  me?  I  am  the  only  examin- 
ing-judge." 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  125 

"  Can't  they  slander  yon  underhand  and  get  you 
dismissed?  " 

At  that  instant  the  couple  were  violently  jostled  by 
Chesnel.  The  old  notary  recognized  the  examining- 
judge.  With  the  clear-sightedness  of  a  man  long 
trained  to  manage  all  sorts  of  interests,  he  felt  that  the 
fate  of  the  Esgriguon  family  lay  in  the  hands  of  this 
young  man. 

"Ah,  monsieur!"  he  exclaimed,  "we  need  you 
very  much.  Let  me  say  a  word  in  your  ear.  Pardon 
me,  madame,"  he  added  to  the  judge's  wife,  dragging 
her  husband  away  from  her. 

Like  the  good  conspirator  that  she  was,  Madame 
Camusot  looked  toward  the  Croisier  house  in  order  to 
break  up  the  interview  if  any  one  should  come  out  of 
it;  but,  as  she  rightly  supposed,  they  were  all  too 
deeply  occupied  in  discussing  the  suggestions  she  had 
thrown  among  them  to  break  up  as  yet.  Chesnel 
drew  the  judge  into  a  dark  corner  of  the  street,  beside 
a  wall,  and  said  in  his  ear:  — 

"The  support  and  influence  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Maufrigneuse,  the  Prince  de  Cadignan,  the  Dues  de 
Navarreins  and  de  Lenoncourt,  the  Keeper  of  the 
Seals,  the  chancellor,  the  king,  are  all  yours  if  you 
stand  by  the  house  of  Esgrignon.  I  have  just  come 
from  Paris.  I  knew  what  had  happened,  and  I  went  to 
explain  it  to  the  court.  "We  count  on  you,  and  you 
may  rely  on  me  for  secrecy.  If  you  are  inimical  to  us, 
I  will  return  to  Paris  and  lay  a  complaint  in  the  hands 
of  his  Highness,  stating  legitimate  suspicions  as  to 
the  integrity  of  your  court,  several  members  of  whom 
have  spent  the  evening  at  the  house  of  the  complainant, 


126  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

du  Croisier,  and  have  drunk  and  eaten  there  in  defiance 
of  the  law." 

Chesnel  would  have  invoked  the  help  of  the  Father 
Eternal  could  he  have  managed  it.  He  left  the  judge 
without  waiting  for  an  answer,  and  darted  like  a  deer 
to  du  Croisier's  house. 

Summoned  by  his  wife  to  repeat  to  her  the  notary's 
words,  the  judge  obeyed,  and  was  immediately  assailed 
with  the  customary  speech :  — 

"Didn't  I  tell  you  so,  my  friend?"  —  a  speech 
which  women  also  utter  when  they  are  wrong ;  but 
then  they  say  it  much  more  vehemently. 

Chesnel  encountered  the  group  of  his  enemies  on  du 
Croisier's  threshold,  just  starting  to  go  home. 

"Open,  in  the  king's  name,"  he  said  to  the  servant 
who  was  locking  the  vestibule  door. 

He  had  just  used  the  king's  name  to  the  examining- 
judge ;  the  word  still  stuck  upon  his  lips ;  he  was  half 
delirious.  The  door  opened.  The  notary  rushed  like 
a  thunderbolt  into  the  antechamber. 

"  My  lad,"  he  said  to  the  footman,  "  a  hundred  francs 
for  you  if  you  will  wake  up  Madame  du  Croisier  and 
send  her  down  to  me  at  once.    Tell  her  what  you  like." 

Chesnel,  excited  as  he  was,  became  suddenly  calm 
and  cold  as  the  door  opened  into  the  brilliant  salon 
where  du  Croisier  was  walking  up  and  down.  The 
two  men  measured  each  other  for  an  instant  with  a 
look  which  had  in  it  twenty  years  of  hatred  and 
enmity.  One  had  his  foot  upon  the  heart  of  the 
house  of  Esgrignon,  the  other  was  advancing  with  the 
force  of  a  lion  to  drive  him  from  it. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Chesnel,  "I  salute  you  humbly. 
Is  your  complaint  lodged?" 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  127 

"  Yes,  monsieur." 

"  Since  when?" 

"  Since  yesterday." 

"  No  other  writ  has  been  issued  but  the  warrant  of 
arrest?" 

"  I  think  not,"  replied  du  Croisier. 

"  I  have  come  to  negotiate." 

"The  affair  is  before  the  court;  the  prosecution 
must  take  its  course ;   nothing  can  now  arrest  it." 

u  No  matter  for  that  —  I  am  here,  at  your  orders,  at 
your  feet." 

The  old  man  fell  upon  his  knees  and  stretched  out 
his  supplicating  hands. 

"  What  is  it  you  want?  "  he  said.  "  Our  property? 
our  chateau?  Take  all,  everything,  withdraw  your 
complaint,  and  leave  us  life  and  honor.  In  addition  to 
what  I  offer,  I  will  be  your  servant,  you  shall  dispose 
of  me  as  yon  will." 

Du  Croisier  left  the  old  man  kneeling  on  the  ground 
and  took  a  chair. 

"  You  are  not  vindictive  ;  you  will  be  kind  ;  you  are 
not  too  bitter  against  us  to  come  to  some  agreement," 
continued  Chesnel.  "  Let  the  young  man  go  free  be- 
fore daylight." 

u  The  whole  town  knows  of  his  arrest,"  said  du  Croi- 
sier, tasting  the  sweets  of  vengeance. 

"That  is  a  great  misfortune.  But  if  there  is  no 
verdict,  no  proofs,  we  can  still  arrange  matters." 

Du  Croisier  reflected.  Chesnel  thought  that  he  was 
consulting  his  interests,  and  he  hoped  he  could  still 
hold  his  enemy  by  that  great  motor  power  of  human 
actions. 


128  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

At  this  crucial  moment  Madame  du  Croisier  entered 
the  room. 

"Madame,  help  me  to  soften  your  husband,"  said 
Chesnel,  still  on  his  knees. 

Madame  du  Croisier  raised  the  old  man,  testifying 
the  utmost  surprise.  Chesnel  related  the  affair.  When 
the  noble  daughter  of  the  follower  of  the  Due  d'Alencon 
knew  the  circumstances,  she  turned  with  tearful  eyes 
to  her  husband. 

"Ah,  monsieur!  can  you  hesitate?  The  d'Esgri- 
gnons  !   the  honor  of  the  province  !  "  she  said  to  him. 

"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it !  "  cried  du  Croisier, 
rising,  and  walking  up  and  down. 

"Nothing  to  do  with  it!"  echoed  Chesnel,  aston- 
ished. 

"Monsieur  Chesnel,  the  question  concerns  France; 
it  concerns  the  nation,  the  people.  It  is  a  question  of 
teaching  your  nobles  that  there  are  such  things  as  jus- 
tice, laws,  a  bourgeoisie,  and  a  lesser  nobility,  which  is 
worth  far  more  than  they,  and  will  control  them.  They 
must  be  taught  that  they  cannot  destroy  ten  fields  of 
wheat  to  course  one  hare,  nor  dishonor  families  by 
seducing  poor  girls,  nor  despise  those  who  are  better 
men  than  they,  without  such  acts  swelling  to  an  ava- 
lanche which  will  descend  and  crush  and  bury  them, 
nobles  though  they  be.  You  want  a  return  to  the  old 
order  of  things ;  you  want  to  tear  up  the  social  com- 
pact, the  Charter  in  which  our  rights  are  written." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Chesnel. 

"  We  have  a  sacred  mission  to  enlighten  the  people," 
continued  du  Croisier.  "It  will  open  their  eyes  to  the 
morality  of  your  side  when  they  see  the  nobles  in  the 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  129 

prisoners'  dock  like  Jack  and  Peter.  They  will  say  to 
themselves  that  poor  men  who  have  honor  are  worth 
far  more  than  great  men  who  dishonor  themselves. 
The  court  of  assizes  sheds  light  on  these  matters.  I 
am  here  as  the  defender  of  the  people,  the  friend  of 
law  and  justice.  You  have  yourself  twice  cast  me  over 
to  the  people's  side,  first  by  rejecting  my  alliance,  and 
next  by  denying  me  an  entrance  to  your  society.  You 
are  only  reaping  that  you  sowed." 

This  outburst  alarmed  Chesnel  as  well  as  Madame 
du  Croisier.  The  wife  acquired  a  horrible  knowledge 
of  her  husband's  character;  that  speech  was  a  gleam 
cast  not  only  upon  the  past,  but  on  the  future.  It 
seemed  impossible  to  bring  this  colossus  to  terms,  but 
Chesnel  would  not  yield  to  the  impossible. 

"Oh,  monsieur!  if  you  will  not  forgive,  how  can 
you  be  a  Christian?"  said  Madame  du  Croisier. 

"  I  forgive  as  God  forgives,  madame,  on  conditions." 

"What  are  they?"  asked  Chesnel,  who  thought  he 
saw  a  ray  of  hope. 

"The  elections  are  coming  on;  I  want  the  votes 
your  party  controls." 

"You  shall  have  them,"  said  Chesnel. 

"I  wish  to  be  received,  my  wife  and  I,  familiarly, 
every  evening,  in  a  friendly  manner,  or  apparently  so, 
by  the  Marquis  d'Esgrignon  and  his  circle." 

"I  don't  know  how  we  can  bring  him  to  consent, 
but  it  shall  be  done." 

"  I  wish  a  bond  for  four  hundred  thousand  francs 
based  on  an  agreement  in  writing  which  shall  relate 
the  circumstances  of  this  affair,  in  order  to  make  sure 
of  your  fulfilling  these  pledges." 

9 


130  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"We  consent,"  said  Chesnel,  not  revealing  the  fact 
that  he  had  three  hundred  thousand  francs  then  upon 
him.  "But  the  paper  must  be  placed  in  the  hands  of 
third  parties  and  returned  to  the  family  after  your  elec- 
tion and  the  payment  of  the  money." 

"  No,  not  until  after  the  marriage  of  my  grandniece, 
Mademoiselle  Duval,  who  may  one  day  be  the  heiress 
of  four  millions.  That  young  woman  shall  be  made 
my  heiress  and  that  of  my  wife  in  her  marriage  con- 
tract, and  you  are  to  arrange  her  marriage  with  your 
young  count." 

"Never!  "  cried  Chesnel. 

"Never?"  returned  du  Croisier,  rejoicing  in  his 
triumph.      "Then  good-night!" 

"Fool  that  I  am!"  thought  Chesnel ;  "why  did  I 
shrink  from  lying  to  such  a  man  ?  " 

Du  Croisier  went  off,  happy  in  sacrificing  all  to  his 
wounded  pride,  in  beholding  the  humiliation  of  the  old 
man,  in  controlling  the  fate  of  the  noble  family  which 
represented  in  itself  the  aristocracy  of  the  province, 
and  in  printing  the  mark  of  his  boot-heel  on  their  vitals. 
He  went  to  his  bedroom,  leaving  his  wife  with  Chesnel. 
In  his  mad  joy  he  saw  nothing  to  mar  his  triumph ;  he 
believed  firmly  that  the  three  hundred  thousand  francs 
were  spent.  To  obtain  that  sum,  the  d'Esgrignons 
must  sell  or  mortgage  their  entire  property.  To  his 
mind  nothing  could  save  'the  count  from  the  court  of 
assizes.  Forgeries  can  always  be  hushed  up  if  the 
money  is  returned.  The  victims  of  this  crime  are 
usually  rich  persons  who  do  not  care  to  be  the  ruin 
of  some  imprudent  man.  But  du  Croisier  would  not 
resign  his  rights  without  some  good   equivalent.      He 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  131 

went  to  bed,  therefore,  thinking  of  the  magnificent 
accomplishment  of  his  hopes,  either  by  the  court  of 
assizes  or  by  means  of  this  marriage,  and  he  pleased 
himself  by  thinking  of  Chesnel  lamenting  over  the 
alternative  with  his  wife. 

Deeply  religious  and  Catholic,  a  royalist,  and  attached 
to  the  nobility,  Madame  du  Croisier  shared  the  feelings 
of  Chesnel  in  relation  to  the  d'Esgrignons.  Therefore 
her  heart  had  been  cruelly  wrung  by  her  husband's 
words.  This  good  ro3Talist  had  now  heard  the  howling 
of  liberalism,  which,  in  the  opinion  of  her  confessor, 
aimed  at  the  destruction  of  Catholicism.  To  her  the 
Left  side  meant  1793,  with  its  riots  and  scaffolds. 

"What  would  your  uncle  say,  that  saint  who  is  now 
listening  to  us?  "  said  Chesnel.     [See  "An  Old  Maid."] 

Madame  du  Croisier  replied  by  the  large  tears  which 
rolled  from  her  eyes. 

"  You  have  already  caused  the  death  of  a  poor  young 
man,  and  the  lifelong  grief  of  his  mother,"  continued 
Chesnel,  observing  that  he  struck  true  (he  would  have 
struck  until  he  crushed  that  heart  to  save  Victurnien)  ; 
"will  you  also  kill  Mademoiselle  Armande,  who  could 
never  survive  the  infamy  of  her  family?  "Will  you 
kill  poor  Chesnel,  your  old  notary,  who  is  prepared  to 
poison  the  young  count  in  his  prison  before  he  can  be 
indicted,  and  then  to  kill  himself  rather  than  be  tried 
as  a  murderer? " 

"My  friend,  enough!  enough!  I  am  capable  of 
anything,  of  everything,  to  hush  up  this  miserable 
affair ;  but  I  did  not  know  Monsieur  du  Croisier  until 
this  moment.  To  you  I  may  speak  frankly ;  there  is 
no  hope." 


132  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"  But  suppose  a  way  were  found?  " 

"  I  would  give  half  my  blood  to  have  it  so,"  she 
said,  with  a  motion  of  her  head  which  plainly  showed 
a  desire  to  seize  it. 

Like  the  First  Consul,  who,  defeated  at  Marengo 
until  five  in  the  evening,  at  six  obtained  a  victory 
through  the  desperate  attack  of  Desaix  and  the  ter- 
rible charge  of  Keller mann,  Chesnel  perceived  the 
elements  of  triumph  amid  the  ruins.  It  needed 
Chesnel,  it  needed  an  old  notary,  it  needed  the  illumi- 
nation of  despair,  to  make  this  old  man  as  great  as 
Napoleon,  nay,  greater;  for  this  battle  was  not 
Marengo,  but  Waterloo,  and  Chesnel  was  resolved  to 
conquer  the  Prussians  as  they  advanced. 

"  Madame,  you  who  have  trusted  me  with  your 
affairs  for  the  last  twenty  years,  you  who  do  honor  to 
the  bourgeoisie  as  the  d'Esgrignons  do  honor  to  the 
nobility  of  this  province,  hear  me  say  that  on  you 
alone  depends  the  salvation  of  the  house  of  Esgrignon. 
Answer  me !  Will  you  allow  the  memory  of  your 
uncle,  the  d'Esgrignons,  your  poor  Chesnel,  to  be  dis- 
graced forever?  Will  you  kill  Mademoiselle  Armande, 
who  will  weep  herself  away?  Or  will  you  redeem  the 
wrong  you  have  done  and  rejoice  the  souls  of  your 
ancestors,  those  faithful  servants  of  the  dukes  of 
Alencon,  by  comforting  the  departed  spirit  of  our  dear 
abbe  ?  —  who  if  he  could  rise  from  his  grave  would  bid 
you  do  that  which  I  ask  of  you  on  my  knees." 

"  What  is  it?  "  cried  Madame  du  Croisier. 

"  This,"  he  said,  "  here  are  the  three  hundred  thou- 
sand francs,"  taking  the  bank-bills  from  his  pocket. 
"  Accept  them,  and  that  ends  the  matter." 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  183 

"  If  that  is  all,"  she  said,  "  if  no  harm  can  result  to 
my  husband  —  " 

"Nothing  but  good  can  result,"  he  cried,  interrupt- 
ing her.  "  You  will  spare  him  the  eternal  torments  of 
hell  at  the  cost  of  a  slight  disappointment  here 
below." 

"  You  are  sure  he  will  not  be  compromised?  " 

Chesnel  read  to  the  bottom  of  the  soul  of  this  poor 
woman.  Madame  du  Croisier  hesitated  between  two 
religions,  —  between  the  commands  the  Church  has  given 
to  wives,  and  her  duties  to  the  throne  and  altar.  She 
thought  her  husband  blamable,  but  dared  not  blame 
him  ;  she  wanted  to  save  the  d'Esgrignons,  but  wanted 
also  to  do  nothing  against  the  interests  of  her  husband. 

"In  no  way,"  replied  Chesnel;  "your  old  notary 
swears  it  on  the  Holy  Gospel." 

Chesnel  had  nothing  left  to  sacrifice  to  the  house  of 
Esgrignon  but  his  eternal  salvation,  and  he  now  risked 
that  by  uttering  a  lie.  But  he  knew  he  must  either 
deceive  Madame  du  Croisier  or  perish. 

He  now  rapidly  wrote  down  and  dictated  to  Madame 
du  Croisier  a  receipt  for  three  hundred  thousand  francs, 
dating  it  five  days  before  the  fatal  forgery,  at  a  time 
when,  as  he  remembered,  du  Croisier  had  been  absent 
from  the  town. 

"Promise  me,"  said  Chesnel,  when  Madame  du 
Croisier  held  the  money  and  he  the  receipt,  "  that  you 
will  declare  to  the  examining-judge  that  you  received 
the  money  on  the  da}7  named." 

"  But  will  not  that  be  a  lie?  " 

"  Only  a  formality." 

"  I  cannot  do  it  without  consulting  my  confessor." 


134  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"Very  good,"  said  Chesnel ;  "do  nothing  in  this 
affair  but  what  he  advises." 

"  I  will  promise  that." 

"  Don't  give  the  money  to  Monsieur  du  Croisier  un- 
til after  you  have  appeared  before  the  examining- 
judge." 

"  No,"  she  said.  "  Alas  !  may  God  give  me  strength 
to  appear  before  human  justice  to  uphold  a  lie  !  " 

Chesnel  kissed  her  hand  and  then  rose  up  majesti- 
cally, like  those  prophets  of  old,  as  we  see  them  painted 
by  Raffaelle  in  the  Vatican. 

"The  soul  of  your  uncle  quivers  with  joy,"  he  said. 
"You  have  forever  effaced  the  wrong  }7ou  did  us  in 
marrying  an  enemy  of  the  throne  and  altar." 

These  words  forcibly  affected  the  timorous  soul  of 
Madame  du  Croisier.  Chesnel  had  suddenly  bethought 
himself  of  making  sure  of  the  Abbe  Couturier,  the 
director  of  Madame  du  Croisier's  conscience.  He 
well  knew  with  what  pertinacity  religious  bigots  work 
for  the  triumph  of  their  ideas  when  they  have  once 
taken  sides  for  their  party,  and  he  saw  the  importance 
of  speedily  drawing  the  Church  into  the  struggle  on 
the  d'Esgrignon  side.  He  therefore  went  straight  to 
the   hotel   d'Esgrignon,   asked    to    have    Mademoiselle 

CJ         cj  ' 

Armande  wakened,  told  her  the  events  of  the  evening, 
and  begged  her  to  see  the  bishop  early  in  the  morning, 
and  bring  the  prelate  himself  to  the  battlefield  on  her 
side. 

"O  God!  save  the  house  of  Esgrignon !  "  cried 
Chesnel,  as  he  returned  to  his  home  with  dragging 
steps.  "  The  matter  is  now  a  judicial  battle.  We  are 
in  presence  of  men  who  have  passions  and  interests. 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  135 

From  such  men,  all  can  be  obtained.  Du  Croisier  has 
profited  by  the  absence  of  the  procureur-diir-roi,  now  in 
Paris  for  the  opening  of  the  Chambers ;  he  would  have 
been  devoted  to  us.  How  did  they  manage  to  gain 
over  his  substitute?  What  did  they  promise  Sauvager 
to  induce  him  to  hurry  this  thing  through  without  con- 
sulting his  chief?  To-morrow  morning  I  must  pene- 
trate that  mystery.  I  will  study  the  ground ;  and 
perhaps,  if  I  can  lay  my  hand  on  the  threads  of  the 
plot,  I  '11  go  back  to  Paris  and  appeal  to  the  higher 
powers  through  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse." 

Such  were  the  inward  arguments  of  the  poor  old 
athlete  who  saw  so  true,  and  who  now  went  to  bed, 
half  dead  with  the  burden  of  so  much  emotion  and  such 
bodily  fatigue.  Nevertheless,  before  he  went  to  sleep, 
he  went  over  in  his  mind  the  personality  of  all  the 
magistrates  composing  the  court,  with  a  scrutinizing 
eye  to  their  secret  ambitions,  endeavoring  to  see  what 
were  his  chances  in  the  struggle  and  how  these  men 
could  be  influenced. 

By  giving  in  a  succinct  form  the  long  examination  of 
consciences  made  by  Chesnel,  we  may  perhaps  present 
a  faithful  picture  of  the  provincial  magistracy. 


136  The   Crallery  of  Antiquities. 


IX. 


A    PROVINCIAL    COURT. 


The  judges  and  other  officers  of  the  Royal  courts, 
forced  to  begin  their  career  in  the  provinces,  where  all 
judiciary  ambitions  are  nursed,  look  to  Paris  as  their 
goal ;  they  all  aspire  to  shine  on  that  vast  stage  where 
great  political  causes  are  tried,  or  where  the  magis- 
tracy deals  with  the  palpitating  interests  of  society. 
But  this  paradise  of  men  of  law  admits  but  few  elect ; 
nine-tenths  of  the  magistrates  find  themselves  doomed 
for  life  to  the  provinces.  Thus  we  find  in  all  the  Royal 
provincial  courts  two  well-defined  parties,  —  that  of 
high  ambitions,  weary  of  hoping,  content  at  last  with 
the  extreme  deference  shown  in  the  provinces  to  all 
magistrates,-  or  else  sleepily  dulled  by  a  quiet  life  ;  and 
that  of  young  men,  or  men  of  real  talent,  in  whom 
the  desire  to  attain  success  is  lessened  by  no  dis- 
appointments, and  whom  the  thirst  for  success  torments 
perpetually,  giving  a  sort  of  fanaticism  to  their  lay 
priesthood. 

At  the  period  of  which  we  write,  these  ardent  ambi- 
tions, stimulated  by  the  great  struggle  of  parties,  and 
convinced  of  the  necessity  of  monarchizing  France, 
were  lucid,  foreseeing,  and  clear-sighted  ;  they  watched 
the  populations  rigorously,  and  coerced  them  into  the 
path  of  obedience  from  which  they  were  not  to  devi- 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  137 

ate.  Courts  of  justice,  fanaticized  by  their  monar- 
chical faith,  repaired  the  wrongs  of  the  old  Parliaments, 
going  hand  in  hand,  too  ostensibly  perhaps,  with  reli- 
gion. They  were,  indeed,  more  zealous  than  wise,  and 
sinned  less  through  Machiavellianism  than  through  the 
sincerity  of  their  views,  which  seemed  hostile  to  the 
general  interests  of  France,  while  they  were  really  try- 
ing to  guard  the  country  from  future  revolutions. 

Still,  taken  in  its  entirety,  the  magistracy  contained 
too  many  bourgeois  elements,  it  was  too  accessible  to 
the  petty  passions  of  liberalism,  to  escape  becoming, 
sooner  or  later,  constitutional,  and  falling  into  line  with 
the  bourgeoisie  whenever  a  real  struggle  came.  In  this 
great  bod}7,  as  in  the  government  itself,  there  was  much 
hypocrisy,  or,  to  express  it  better,  a  spirit  of  imitation 
which  has  always  led  France  to  model  itself  upon  the 
Court,  and  thus  mislead  it  very  innocently. 

These  two  judicial  classes  existed  in  the  court  which 
was  now  to  decide  the  fate  of  young  d'Esgrignon.  The 
chief-justice,  du  Ronceret,  and  an  old  judge  named 
Blond et,  represented  the  magistracy,  resigned  to  be 
what  they  were,  settled  for  life  in  their  own  town. 
The  young  and  ambitious  class  counted  among  its 
members,  Monsieur  Camusot,  the  examining- judge,  and 
Monsieur  Michu,  appointed  a  substitute-judge  through 
the  influence  of  the  Cinq-Cygne  family,  with  the  promise 
of  promotion  on  the  first  occasion  offered  to  the  Royal 
court  of  Paris. 

Monsieur  du  Ronceret,  secure  of  his  place  by  reason 
of  the  irremovability  of  sitting  judges,  finding  himself 
not  received  by  the  aristocracy  of  the  town,  took  sides 
with  the  bourgeoisie,  giving  to  his  disappointment  the 


138  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

varnish  of  independence,  not  seeing  that  such  a  course 
would  condemn  him  to  remain  where  he  was  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  Once  committed  to  this  course,  he 
was  led  by  the  logic  of  things  to  rest  his  hopes  on  the 
triumph  of  du  Croisier  and  the  Left  side.  But  he  satis- 
fied neither  side.  Compelled  to  appear  on  good  terms 
with  the  government,  he  was  suspected  by  the  liberals. 
He  had  no  place  in  either  party,  and  found  himself 
before  long  playing  a  secondary  role,  and  totally  with- 
out influence.  The  falseness  of  this  position  reacted 
on  his  character ;  he  was  sour  and  discontented.  Sick 
of  such  political  nonentity,  he  was  now  secretly  resolved 
to  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  liberal  party,  and  to 
share  du  Croisier's  dominion  over  it.  His  behavior  in 
the  affair  of  Comte  d'Esgrignon  was  his  first  step  in 
this  direction. 

The  chief-justice  was  a  tall,  thin  man  with  a  retreat- 
ing forehead,  grayish  chestnut  hair,  greenish  eyes,  a 
blotched  skin,  and  lips  tightly  compressed.  His  wheezy 
voice  had  the  choked  utterance  of  asthma.  He  had 
taken  to  wife  a  solemn,  loose-jointed,  tall  woman,  who 
affected  the  most  ridiculous  fashions,  and  bedizened 
herself  excessively.  Madame  du  Ronceret  gave  her- 
self the  airs  of  a  queen.  She  wore  high  colors,  and 
never  appeared  at  a  ball  without  being  topped  by  one 
of  those  turbans  so  dear  to  Englishwomen,  which 
French  provincial  women  also  cultivate  and  love. 
Between  them  the  husband  and  wife  could  muster  an 
income  of  twelve  thousand  francs.  In  spite  of  a  ten- 
dency to  meanness,  they  received  once  a  week,  in  order 
to  satisfy  their  vanity  by  maintaining  a  social  position. 
Three  card-tables,  with  green  baize  covers  rather  worn, 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  139 

and  a  backgammon  board,  sufficed  for  the  entertain- 
ment of  the  company,  to  whom  Madame  du  Ronceret 
accorded  cider,  short-cake,  chestnuts,  glasses  of  eau- 
sucree,  and  of  orgeat  made  by  herself.  Of  late  she 
had  adopted  once  a  fortnight  the  fashion  of  tea,  accom- 
panied with  confectionery  of  a  piteous  description. 
Every  three  months  the  du  Roncerets  gave  a  great 
dinner  of  three  courses,  much  talked  of  in  the  town, 
served  on  miserable  china,  but  cooked  with  the  science 
that  distinguishes  the  provinces.  This  gargantuesque 
repast  lasted  six  hours. 

Thus  life  and  its  accessories  in  the  house  of  the 
chief-justice  was  in  keeping  with  his  character  and 
his  false  position.  He  felt  unpleasantly  in  his  own 
home  without  knowing  why ;  but  he  dared  not  make 
an  outlay  to  improve  the  state  of  things,  lest  it  should 
diminish  the  five  or  six  thousand  francs  he  laid  by 
yearly,  in  order  to  marry  his  son  Fabien,  a  youth  who 
refused  to  be  a  magistrate,  or  a  barrister,  or  a  gov- 
ernment official,  and  whose  idleness  exasperated  his 
father. 

On  the  score  of  this  son,  the  chief- justice  was  in 
rivalry  with  his  assistant  chief-justice,  Monsieur  Blon- 
det,  an  old  judge  who  had  long  been  endeavoring  to 
ally  his  son  with  the  Blandureau  family.  These  rich 
linen  merchants  had  an  only  daughter  to  whom  the 
chief-justice  wished  to  marry  Fabien.  As  the  marriage 
of  Joseph  Blondet  depended  on  his  appointment  to  the 
functions  of  substitute-judge,  which  old  Blondet  hoped 
to  obtain  bv  giving;  in  his  own  resignation,  the  cbief- 
justice  du  Ronceret  hampered  the  old  man's  efforts  in 
an  underhand  way,  and  secretly  made  advances  to  the 


140  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

Blandureaus.  Possibly  if  it  had  not  been  for  this  affair 
of  Comte  d'Esgrignon,  the  Blondets  might  have  been 
supplanted  by  the  astute  chief- justice,  whose  fortune 
was  much  superior  to  that  of  his  competitor. 

The  old  judge,  Monsieur  Blondet,  one  of  those 
curious  figures  hidden  in  the  provinces  like  coins  in  a 
crypt,  was  then  about  sixty-seven  years  of  age.  He 
carried  his  age  well ;  he  was  tall,  and  his  neck  and 
shoulders  recalled  those  of  the  canons  in  the  good  old 
times.  His  face,  marked  with  countless  pits  of  the 
small-pox,  which  had  injured  the  shape  of  his  nose  and 
turned  it  into  the  likeness  of  a  gimlet,  was  not  without 
dignity.  A  ruddy  color  was  evenly  distributed  all 
over  it,  and  it  was  animated  by  two  bright  little  eyes 
habitually  satirical,  and  by  a  certain  sardonic  move- 
ment of  his  purplish  lips.  Having  been  a  barrister 
before  the  Revolution,  he  was  made  during  the  troubles 
a  public  prosecutor ;  but  he  was  much  the  gentlest  of 
those  terrible  functionaries.  The  "  goodman  Blondet," 
as  he  was  called,  contrived  to  deaden  the  revolutionary 
action  by  acquiescing  in  everything  and  executing  noth- 
ing. Compelled  to  imprison  a  few  nobles,  he  delayed 
their  trials  until  the  9th  Thermidor  with  an  ingenuity 
which  won  him  universal  esteem. 

Certainly  the  good  man  ought  to  have  been  chief- 
justice  ;  but  he  was  set  aside  on  the  reconstruction  of 
the  courts  by  Napoleon,  whose  aversion  to  republicans 
appeared  in  every  detail  of  his  government.  In  spite 
of  the  Emperor's  repugnance,  the  arch-chancellor,  in  the 
interest  of  the  courts,  maintained  Blondet  as  judge, 
declaring  that  he  was  one  of  the  ablest  jurisconsults  in 
France.     His  great  talents,  his  knowledge  of  former 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  141 

law,  and  now  of  the  new  legislation,  would  have  led 
him  to  high  honors  in  the  end,  but,  like  certain  other 
great  minds,  he  thought  little  of  his  judiciary  knowledge, 
and  devoted  himself  heart  and  soul  to  an  occupation 
which  had  nothing  to  do  with  his  profession,  but  to 
which  he  gave  his  ambition,  his  time,  and  his  abilities. 
The  old  man  loved  horticulture  passionately ;  he  was 
in  correspondence  with  all  the  most  celebrated  ama- 
teurs ;  he  had  the  ambition  to  create  new  species ;  he 
was  interested  in  the  discoveries  of  botany  ;  in  short, 
he  lived  in  a  world  of  flowers.  Like  other  florists,  he 
had  his  predilections ;  his  chosen  flower  was  the  pelar- 
gonium. The  court  and  its  cases,  in  short,  real  life, 
was  as  nothing  to  him,  compared  with  the  life  of  fancy, 
full  of  emotions,  in  which  he  lived,  more  and  more  in 
love  with  his  innocent  sultanas.  The  care  his  garden 
needed,  the  sweet  occupation  his  flowers  gave  him,  tied 
the  good  soul  to  his  greenhouse.  Without  that  passion 
he  would  certainly  have  been  elected  deputy  during  the 
Empire  and  doubtless  have  shone  brilliantly  in  the 
Legislative  body. 

His  marriage  was  another  reason  for  this  obscure 
life.  At  forty  years  of  age  he  committed  the  folly  of 
marrying  a  girl  of  eighteen,  by  whom  he  had  in  the 
first  year  of  the  marriage  a  son  named  Joseph.  Three 
years  later  Madame  Blondet,  then  the  prettiest  woman 
in  the  town,  inspired  the  prefect  of  the  department 
with  a  passion  that  ended  only  with  her  death.  She 
had  by  the  prefect,  to  the  knowledge  of  every  one  and 
of  Blondet  himself,  a  second  son  named  Emile. 
Madame  Blondet,  who  might  have  stimulated  her  hus- 
band's   ambition   and   dragged    him    away   from    his 


142  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

flowers,  only  encouraged  his  taste  for  botany,  not  wish- 
ing to  leave  the  town  where  the  prefect  lived.  Incap- 
able at  his  age  of  entering  upon  a  struggle  with  a 
young  wife,  the  magistrate  consoled  himself  in  his 
greenhouse,  taking  a  very  pretty  servant-girl  to  assist 
him  in  the  care  of  his  seraglio  of  beauties,  which  were 
constantly  changing. 

While  the  judge  repotted,  transplanted,  watered, 
layered,  grafted,  mated,  and  bunched  his  flowers, 
Madame  Blondet  spent  her  time  and  money  on  dress 
and  fashions  in  order  to  shine  in  the  salons  of  the  pre- 
fecture ;  one  interest  only,  the  education  of  Emile, 
diverted  her  mind  from  her  passion,  to  which  indeed  he 
belonged.  This  child  of  love  was  as  handsome  and 
clever  as  Joseph  was  dull  and  ugly.  The  old  judge, 
blinded  by  fatherly  affection,  loved  Joseph  as  much  as 
his  wife  loved  Emile.  For  twelve  years  Monsieur 
Blondet's  resignation  was  complete.  He  closed  his 
eyes  to  his  wife's  conduct,  preserving  a  dignified  de- 
meanor, like  the  great  seigneurs  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury ;  but,  like  other  men  of  tranquil  tastes,  he  nursed 
a  deep  though  secret  hatred  to  his  youngest  son.  On 
the  death  of  his  wife,  in  1818,  he  expelled  the  intruder 
by  sending  him  to  Paris  to  study  law  without  other 
means  than  a  stipend  of  twelve  hundred  francs  a  year, 
to  which  sum  no  entreaties  or  appeals  could  ever  in- 
duce him  to  add  a  penny.  If  Emile  Blondet  had  not 
found  protection  from  his  real  father,  he  would  cer- 
tainly have  been  ruined. 

Besides  the  old  house  in  which  he  lived,  where  noth- 
ing had  been  changed  for  a  century,  the  judge  pos- 
sessed certain  landed  property  which  brought  him   in 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  143 

about  four  thousand  francs  a  year.  His  vengeance, 
which  was  really  legitimate,  consisted  in  making  over 
his  house  and  other  property  and  his  seat  on  the  bench 
to  his  son  Joseph.  The  whole  town  knew  of  his  inten- 
tions. He  had  made  a  will  in  favor  of  that  son,  to 
whom  he  left  all  that  the  Code  allows  a  father  to  give 
to  one  of  his  children  to  the  detriment  of  the  others. 

Driven  thus  from  his  so-called  paternal  home, 
Emile  Blondet  had  managed  to  acquire  a  distinguished 
position  in  Paris,  though  the  distinction  was  more 
mental  than  actual.  His  laziness,  his  easy  indifference, 
and  laisser-aller  had  been  the  despair  of  his  real  father, 
who,  having  been  removed  from  his  official  position 
during  one  of  the  ministerial  reactions  of  the  Restora- 
tion, died  almost  ruined,  and  doubtful  of  the  future  of 
a  son  gifted  by  nature  with  the  most  brilliant  qualities. 
Emile  Blondet,  however,  was  sustained  by  the  friend- 
ship of  a  Demoiselle  de  Troisville  married  to  the  Comte 
de  Montcornet,  whom  he  had  known  before  her  mar- 
riage. His  mother  was  still  living  at  the  time  the 
Troisvilles  returned  from  the  emigration.  Madame 
Blondet  was  connected  with  that  family;  distantly,  to 
be  sure,  but  enough  so  to  introduce  her  son.  Foresee- 
ing his  future,  that  of  an  orphan  at  her  death,  the 
mother  sought  some  protection  for  him.  She  con- 
trived to  throw  him  familiarly  with  the  eldest  of  the 
three  Troisville  daughters,  whom  he  pleased  exceed- 
ingly, although  it  was  of  course  impossible  that  a 
Troisville  should  marry  him.  The  tie  between  the  pair 
was  like  that  between  Paul  and  Virginia.  When,  in 
her  last  illness,  Madame  Blondet  heard  of  the  mar- 
riage of  Mademoiselle  de  Troisville  to  General  Mont- 


144  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

cornet,  she  made  an  effort  to  go  to  her,  and  prayed  her, 
solemnly,  never  to  abandon  Emile,  but  to  help  him  in 
the  world  of  Paris  to  which  the  official  rank  and  fortune 
of  the  general  called  her. 

Happily  for  him  Emile  was  able  to  protect  himself. 
At  twenty  he  made  his  debut  in  literature  with  the 
hand  of  a  master.  His  success  was  not  less  great  in 
the  choice  social  life  to  which  his  father  introduced 
him,  being  able  at  first  to  supply  him  with  luxuries. 
This  precocious  celebrity,  and  Emile's  charming  per- 
sonality, may  have  tightened  the  bonds  of  friendship 
which  united  him  to  the  countess.  Perhaps  Madame 
de  Montcornet,  who  had  Russian  blood  in  her  veins  (her 
mother  was  a  Scherbellof),  might  have  rebuffed  the 
friend  of  her  childhood,  had  he  been  poor  and  strug- 
gling with  might  and  main  against  the  obstacles  of 
Parisian  literary  life ;  but  by  the  time  Emile's  reverses 
came  the  attachment  between  the  two  had  grown  to  be 
unalterable.  At  the  moment,  however,  when  the  young 
Comte  d'Esgrignon  first  met  Emile  Blondet  at  the 
Vidame's  dinner,  he  was  considered  one  of  the  lights 
of  journalism.  Great  superiority  in  political  judgment 
was  imputed  to  him,  and  his  reputation  in  a  great 
measure  rested  on  it.  The  worthy  old  judge  was  com- 
pl  tely  ignorant  of  the  power  which  constitutional 
government  had  bestowed  upon  newspapers.  No  one 
ever  talked  to  him  of  a  son  he  evidently  wished  to  for- 
get ;  consequently  he  knew  nothing  of  the  discarded 
youth  nor  of  the  power  which  he  exercised. 

The  integrity  of  the  judge  was  on  a  par  with  his 
passion  for  flowers.  He  received  litigants,  talked 
with   them,    listened   to   them,   and   showed  them  his 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  145 

flowers  ;  he  accepted  choice  and  precious  seeds  from 
them,  but  on  the  bench  he  became  the  most  impartial 
judge  on  earth.  His  manner  of  proceeding  was  so 
well  known  that  after  a  while  litigants  only  came  to  see 
him  to  give  him  documents  which  might  enlighten  him. 
No  one  ever  attempted  to  deceive  him.  His  knowledge, 
and  his  indifference  to  his  real  powers  made  him  so 
invaluable  to  du  Ronceret,  that  even  without  the  latter's 
matrimonial  reasons,  he  would  still  have  opposed 
Blondet's  retirement  in  favor  of  his  son ;  for  without 
the  wise  old  man  at  his  elbow  du  Ronceret  was  unable 
to  formulate  a  judgment. 

The  old  man  lived  with  a  simplicity  worthy  of  one 
of  Plutarch's  heroes.  At  night  he  studied  his  cases,  in 
the  morning  he  cared  for  his  flowers,  and  during  the 
middle  of  the  day  he  judged.  The  pretty  servant- 
girl,  now  as  ripe  and  wrinkled  as  an  Easter  apple, 
kept  house  with  a  rigorous  economy.  To  give  an  idea 
of  the  interior  life  of  the  household,  it  is  enough  to  say 
that  father  and  son  never  ate  any  but  rotten  fruit, 
owing  to  Mademoiselle  Cadot's  habit  of  selecting  for 
dessert  those  most  likely  to  become  uneatable  ;  neither 
did  they  ever  enjoy  the  taste  of  fresh  bread,  and  they 
kept  all  the  fast  days  commanded  by  the  Church. 

The  garden,  marvellously  tended  by  a  single  gar- 
dener, had  walks  of  river  gravel,  constantly  raked ;  on 
either  side  of  which  were  borders  filled  with  the  rarest 
flowers.  All  perfumes,  all  colors  were  there;  also 
myriads  of  little  pots  exposed  to  the  sun ;  lizards  were 
on  the  walls ;  hoes  and  rakes  were  stacked  like  arms ; 
in  short,  all  the  innocent  and  useful  things  which  this 
charming    passion    necessitates   could    be   seen   there. 

10 


146  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

At  the  end  of  his  greenhouse  the  judge  had  arranged  a 
sort  of  amphitheatre  where,  on  graduated  benches, 
were  some  five  or  six  thousand  pots  of  pelargoniums ; 
a  magnificent  spectacle,  to  which  all  persons  in  the 
town  and  circumjacent  neighborhood  were  invited 
during  the  flowering  season.  The  Empress  Marie- 
Louise,,  passing  through  the  town  on  one  occasion,  had 
honored  this  beautiful  show  with  her  presence,  and 
was  so  much  struck  by  it  that  she  mentioned  it  to 
Napoleon,  who  sent  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  honor 
to  the  old  judge. 

As  for  Michu,  the  substitute- judge,  that  young  man, 
though  powerfully  protected,  was  more  interested  in 
pleasing  the  women  of  the  highest  societ}^  to  whom  the 
introductions  of  the  Cinq-Cygne  family  had  gained 
him  admittance,  than  in  the  usually  simple  cases  of  a 
provincial  court.  He  performed  his  legal  functions  as 
a  matter  of  conscience,  just  as  he  wrote  his  themes  in 
college  ;  he  voted  blindly,  saying  "  Yes,  my  dear  judge  " 
to  everything.  But  beneath  this  apparent  laisser-aUer, 
he  concealed  the  superior  mind  of  a  man  who  had 
studied  and  already  distinguished  himself  in  Paris. 
Accustomed  to  take  broad  views  on  every  subject,  he 
could  do  rapidly  much  that  would  otherwise  have  taken 
the  chief-justice  and  old  Blondet  a  long  time ;  he  often 
summed  up  for  them  the  points  of  a  question  which 
they  found  difficult  to  solve.  Protected  by  the  most 
captious  of  aristocracies,  young  and  rich,  the  substi- 
tute-judge lived  entirely  outside  of  the  intrigues  of  the 
town  and  the  departmental  pettinesses.  Indispensable 
for  rural  fetes  and  picnics,  he  frolicked  with  the  young 
people,    courted    the    mothers,    danced    at    balls,    and 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  147 

played  cards  like  a  financier.  In  short,  he  acquitted 
himself  admirably  in  his  role  of  fashionable  magistrate, 
without,  however,  compromising  his  dignity,  which  he 
knew  how  to  bring  forward  on  occasion,  like  a  man  of 
sense. 

The  procureur-du-roi ',  a  magistrate  of  the  highest 
talent,  but  now  thrown  much  into  statecraft,  awed  the 
chief-justice  du  Ronceret.  Had  he  not  been  absent  at 
this  time  in  Paris,  Victurnien's  arrest  would  never  have 
been  made.  His  dexterity,  his  ability  in  management, 
would  certainly  have  prevented  it.  The  chief-justice 
and  du  Croisier  had  profited  by  his  absence  at  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies  (where  he  was  one  of  the  most 
remarkable  ministerial  orators)  to  hatch  their  plot, 
believing,  with  some  justice,  that  if  the  law  were  once 
invoked,  and  the  matter  made  public,  there  would  be 
no  remedy.  At  this  period  of  our  history,  no  court 
and  no  lawyer  would  have  acted  without  long  delibera- 
tion aud  reference  to  the  procureur-general,  on  a  com- 
plaint of  forgery  against  the  eldest  son  of  one  of  the 
noblest  families  in  the  kingdom.  In  such  a  case  the 
legal  authorities  would,  in  concert  with  the  govern- 
ment, try  all  sorts  of  compromises  to  stifle  a  scandal 
which  might  send  an  imprudent  young  man  to  the  gal- 
leys. They  would  also  have  acted  in  the  same  manner 
for  some  highly  respected  liberal  family,  unless  it  was 
too  openly  arrayed  against  the  throne  and  the  altar. 
The  reception  of  du  Croisier's  complaint  and  the  im- 
mediate arrest  of  the  young  count  were  therefore  two 
unusual  circumstances  which  could  certainly  not  have 
been  brought  about  without  difficulty.  This  is  how  the 
chief-justice  and  du  Croisier  went  to  work  to  reach 
their  ends. 


148  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

Monsieur  Sauvager,  a  young  royalist  lawyer  who  had 
reached  the  position  of  assistant-procwmtr  by  dint  of 
obsequious  services  to  the  ministry,  reigned  in  the  law 
courts  in  the  absence  of  his  chief.  On  him  it  de- 
pended not  only  to  admit  the  complaint  of  du  Croisier, 
but  also  to  issue  a  requisition  for  the  warrant  of  arrest. 
Sauvager,  a  man  of  no  position  and  no  means  what- 
ever, lived  by  his  office.  Consequently  the  government 
regarded  him  as  a  follower  whom  nothing  could  shake. 
The  chief-justice  made  use  of  the  man's  situation.  As 
soon  as  the  forged  draft  was  in  du  Croisier' s  hands, 
that  same  evening  Madame  du  Ronceret,  prompted  by 
her  husband,  had  a  long  conversation  with  Sauvager, 
to  whom  she  pointed  out  that  the  career  of  a  "  stand- 
ing judge" — that  is,  one  who  was  not  on  the  bench  — 
was  very  uncertain ;  in  fact,  a  ministerial  caprice  or 
a  single  blunder  might  ruin  the  future  of  a  man  so 
placed. 

"Be  a  man  of  conscience;  give  your  decisions 
against  the  government  interests  whenever  they  are 
wrong.  You  would  lose  your  place,  but  you  have  no 
security  in  your  present  position.  You  can,"  she  went 
on,  "  profit  by  the  present  occasion  to  make  a  ricji 
marriage,  which  would  protect  you  forever  against  such 
chances,  and  give  you  fortune  enough  with  which  to 
obtain,  sooner  or  later,  a  sitting  judgeship.  Here's  a 
fine  occasion.  Monsieur  du  Croisier  will  never  have 
children  ;  every  one  knows  why.  His  fortune  and  that 
of  his  wife  will  go  to  his  niece,  Mademoiselle  Duval. 
Monsieur  Duval  is  an  ironmaster  whose  purse  is  al- 
ready plump,  and  his  father,  a  man  of  property,  is 
still  living.    The  father  and  son  have  a  million  between 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  149 

them.  Monsieur  and  Madame  Duval  will  certainly  give 
their  daughter  to  any  man  her  uncle  du  Croisier  pre- 
sents to  them,  in  consideration  of  the  two  fortunes  he 
will  leave  her.  Now,  you  know  the  hatred  du  Croisier 
feels  for  the  d'Esgrignons.  Do  him  a  service;  be  on 
his  side.  Receive  a  complaint  he  is  going  to  make  to 
you  against  young  d'Esgrignon  for  forgery ;  have  the 
count  arrested  at  once  without  consulting  the  procureur- 
du-roi ;  then  pray  God  that  for  having  acted  like  an 
impartial  magistrate  against  the  wishes  of  the  govern- 
ment, the  minister  may  dismiss  you,  and  your  fortune 
is  made!  You  will  have  a  charming  wife  and  thirty 
thousand  a  }^ear  in  dowry,  not  counting  four  millions 
of  inheritance,  probably  within  a  dozen  years." 

In  the  course  of  two  evenings  the  a,ssistsmt-procureur 
had  been  won  over.  The  chief-justice  and  Sauvager 
kept  the  matter  from  the  knowledge  of  the  old  judge 
Blondet,  and  from  that  of  the  substitute-judge.  Cer- 
tain of  Blondet' s  impartiality  in  presence  of  the  facts 
of  the  case,  the  chief-justice  had  a  majority  without 
counting  Michu ;  but  all  was  lost  if  the  unexpected 
disloyalty  of  the  examining- judge  Camusot  continued. 
The  chief-justice  wanted  an  immediate  decision  to  send 
the  case  for  trial  before  the  procurear-du-roi  was  made 
aware  of  the  matter.  Would  Camusot  or  the  substitute- 
judge  inform  him? 


150  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 


X. 


THE    EXAMINING- JUDGE. 


By  explaining  the  private  life  of  the  exa mining- judge, 
Camusot,  we  shall  reveal  the  reasons  which  allowed 
Chesnel  to  consider  this  young  magistrate  as  capable 
of  being  won  over  to  the  d'Esgrignons,  and  made 
him  bold  to  attempt  to  suborn  him  in  the  open  street. 
Camusot,  son  of  the  first  wife  of  a  celebrated  silk  mer- 
chant in  the  rue  des  Bourdonnais,  and  the  object  of 
his  father's  highest  ambition,  had  always  been  destined 
for  the  magistracy.  In  marrying  a  wife,  he  had  also 
married  the  influence  of  a  king's  usher,  —  an  under- 
ground protection,  but  efficacious,  for  it  had  already 
obtained  for  him  his  appointment,  first  as  ordinary 
judge,  and  afterwards  as  examining-judge.  His  father 
had  given  him  on  his  marriage  only  six  thousand  francs 
a  year,  the  fortune  of  his  late  mother ;  and  as  Made- 
moiselle Thirion  did  not  bring  him  a  dowry  of  more 
than  twenty  thousand  francs,  the  young  household 
knew  the  miseries  of  secret  privation,  for  the  salary 
of  a  provincial  judge  is  never  more  than  fifteen  hun- 
dred francs.  Examining-judges  receive  an  additional 
stipend  because  of  the  extra  expenses  and  labor  of 
their  functions.  In  spite  of  this  extra  fatigue,  these 
places  are  much  desired,  although  their  holders  are 
removable.    It  was  for  this  reason  that  Madame  Camu- 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  151 

sot  scolded  her  husband  for  disclosing  his  mind  to  the 
chief-justice. 

Marie-Cecile-Amelie  Thirion,  after  three  years  of 
marriage,  had  obtained  the  blessing  of  God  in  the 
shape  of  two  successful  confinements  with  a  son  and 
daughter ;  but  she  prayed  to  the  Divine  Power  not  to 
bless  her  again  in  the  same  manner.  A  few  more  such 
blessings,  and  privation  would  turn  to  poverty.  The 
fortune  of  Monsieur  Camusot,  the  father,  was  likely  to 
be  long  in  coming.  Besides,  the  merchant's  four  chil- 
dren by  two  wives  would  not  in  any  case  inherit  more 
than  an  income  of  ten  thousand  francs  apiece,  and  by 
that  time  the  judge  would  have  children  of  his  own  of 
an  age  to  establish.  AVe  can  readily  conceive  the  situa- 
tion of  a  little  woman  of  sense  and  resolution  such  as 
Madame  Camusot.  She  had  too  deep  a  conviction  of 
the  result  of  any  mis-step  made  by  her  husband  on  his 
future  career  to  refrain  from  meddling  continually  in 
judiciary  matters. 

The  only  child  of  an  old  servant  of  Louis  XVIII., 
a  valet  who  had  followed  his  master  throughout  his 
exile  in  Italy,  Courland,  and  England,  and  whom  the 
king  had  rewarded  with  the  only  place  he  was  able  to 
fill  —  that  of  an  usher  of  his  cabinet  —  Amelie  Thirion 
had  been  brought  up  in  the  reflected  light  of  a  court. 
Her  father  described  the  great  seigneurs,  the  ministers, 
the  personages  he  ushered  into  the  king's  presence  and 
saw  as  the}7  passed  and  repassed  him.  Living  as  it 
were,  at  the  gate  of  the  Tuileries,  this  young  woman 
had  taken  the  tone  of  ideas  that  prevailed  there,  and 
had  fully  adopted  the  doctrine  of  absolute  submission 
to  the  ruling  power.     She  had  therefore  wisely  judged 


152  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

that  in  taking  sides  with  the  d'Esgrignons  her  husband 
would  please  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse  and  obtain, 
through  her,  the  influence  of  two  powerful  families 
on  which  her  father  could  rely  when  the  oppor- 
tune moment  came  to  advance  her  husband  with  the 
king.  Camusot  might,  in  the  first  instance,  be  ap- 
pointed judge  within  the  jurisdiction  of  Paris,  and  later 
in  the  city  itself.  This  coveted  promotion,  yearned 
for  at  every  moment  of  her  life,  would  give  them  a 
salary  of  six  thousand  francs,  the  comforts  of  a  home 
with  her  own  father  or  with  Camusot's,  and  thus  enable 
them  to  enjoy  the  benefits  of  both  paternal  fortunes. 
If  the  old  adage,  "out  of  sight,  out  of  mind,"  is  true 
in  the  case  of  most  women,  it  is  also  eminently  true  in 
regard  to  family  sentiments,  and  royal  and  ministerial 
favors.  From  time  immemorial  those  who  serve  kings 
personally  have  luck  in  their  own  affairs ;  the  master 
takes  an  interest  in  a  man  whom-  he  sees  daily,  be  it 
only  a  valet. 

Madame  Camusot,  who  considered  herself  only  a 
bird  of  passage  in  the  provinces,  had  taken  in  the  rue 
du  Cygne  a  little  house  of  a  poor  description ;  none 
of  the  rooms  were  ceiled,  they  all  showed  beams  or 
rafters  whitewashed.  The  judge's  study  was  that  of 
every  provincial  lawyer,  —  supplied  with  a  large  ma- 
hogany desk  and  armchair,  the  library  of  a  law-student, 
and  a  few  pieces  of  shabby  furniture  brought  from 
Paris.  Madame' s  bedroom  was  an  indigenous  product, 
blue  and  white,  with  a  carpet  and  a  miscellaneous  col- 
lection of  furniture.  As  for  the  salon  on  the  ground- 
floor,  it  was  truly  provincial,  cold,  bare,  and  hung  with 
damp  and  faded  papers. 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  153 

It  was  in  this  shabby  room,  without  other  view  than 
a  walnut-tree  in  the  middle  of  the  courtyard,  the  black- 
ened walls  of  which  divided  the  house  from  the  deserted 
street,  that  the  days  of  a  lively  and  eager  young 
woman  accustomed  to  the  pleasures  and  excitements  of 
Paris  were  now  spent ;  alone  the  greater  part  of  the 
time ;  or  receiving  the  wearisome  visits  of  silly 
women  who  made  her  prefer  her  dreary  solitude  to 
their  empty  talk,  during  which,  if  she  allowed  herself 
the  slightest  stroke  of  wit  or  sarcasm,  she  gave  rise  to 
interminable  comments  which  embittered  her  position. 
Occupied  with  her  children,  less  from  choice  than  to 
put  some  interest  into  her  solitary  life,  she  could  only 
exercise  her  intellect  on  the  intrigues  which  went  on 
about  her,  on  the  underhand  dealings  and  practices  of 
provincials,  and  their  various  ambitions  cramped  into 
narrow  circles.  She  was  quick  to  fathom  mysteries  that 
her  husband  did  not  even  perceive.  Her  eyes  were  on 
the  walnut-tree  as  she  sat  at  the  window  of  her  room 
holding  in  her  hand  a  piece  of  embroidery,  but  her 
mind  was  in  Paris,  where  all  was  pleasure,  all  was 
life ;  she  dreamed  of  its  fetes  and  wept  to  find  herself 
in  that  cold  prison  of  the  provinces.  She  was  miserable 
also  in  the  fact  that  the  region  was  peaceful ;  no  con- 
spiracies, no  great  crimes,  no  "affairs"  took  place 
there.  She  saw  herself  indefinitely  under  the  shadow 
of  that  walnut-tree. 

Madame  Camusot  is  a  plump  little  woman,  fresh  and 
fair,  with  a  prominent  forehead,  a  pinched  mouth,  a 
forward  chin,  features  which  youth  renders  endurable, 
but  which  will  surely  make  her  seem  like  an  old  woman 
early.     Her  lively,  intelligent  eyes,  which  express  too 


154  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

plainly  her  frank  desire  for  advancement  and  the  envy 
her  present  inferior  position  is  rousing  iu  her,  shine 
like  two  lights  in  an  otherwise  common  face,  and  ele- 
vate it  by  a  certain  force  of  sentiment  which  success 
will  extinguish  later.  At  this  period  of  her  life  she 
was  very  industrious  about  her  clothes ;  she  invented 
her  own  trimmings  and  even  embroidered  them ;  she 
studied  her  toilets  with  her  chamber-maid,  a  woman 
brought  from  Paris,  and  thus  maintained  a  certain 
Parisian  reputation  in  the  provinces.  Her  caustic 
humor  made  her  feared ;  she  was  never  loved.  With 
that  keen  investigating  spirit  which  characterizes 
women  who  are  unemployed,  and  who  are  forced  to 
find  some  occupation  for  their  time,  she  had  ended  by 
discovering  the  secret  motives  and  opinions  of  the 
chief-justice;  and  in  consequence  of  these  discoveries, 
she  had  lately  urged  Camusot  to  declare  war  against 
him.  The  affair  of  the  young  Comte  d'Esgrignon 
seemed  to  her  an  excellent  opportunity.  Before  going 
that  evening  to  du  Croisier's  house  she  had  demon- 
strated to  her  husband  without  difficulty  that  in  this 
affair  the  deputy-procureur,  Sauvager,  was  evidently 
going  against  the  wishes  of  his  superiors.  Camusot's 
role,  she  told  him,  was  to  make  a  stepping-stone  of 
this  criminal  trial,  by  favoring  the  d'Esgrignon  family, 
who  would  prove  far  more  powerful  with  'the  govern- 
ment than  the  du  Croisier  faction. 

"Sauvager  will  never  marry  Mademoiselle  Duval; 
they  have  only  held  that  out  to  him  as  a  bait.  He 
will  be  the  dupe  of  these  Machiavellis  of  the  Val- 
Noble,  to  whom  he  will  sacrifice  his  position. 
Camusot,    this    affair,   so   unfortunate   for   the    d'Es- 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  155 

griguons,  and  so  treacherously  carried  on  by  the 
chief-justice,  apparently  to  oblige  du  Croisier,  will  end 
favorably  for  no  one  but  you,"  she  said  in  conclusion. 

The  shrewd  Parisian  woman  had  fathomed  the  secret 
manoeuvres  of  the  chief- justice  toward  the  Blandureaus 
and  also  his  motives  for  thwarting  the  plans  of  old 
Blondet.  She  saw  no  profit  to  herself,  however,  in  en- 
lightening either  father  or  son  on  the  dangers  of  their 
situation  ;  in  fact  she  enjoyed  this  comedy,  not  sus- 
pecting the  importance  it  might  assume  in  the  affair. 
But  in  case  her  husband's  position  was  assailed  by  the 
chief-justice,  Madame  Camusot  knew  that  she  could  in 
turn  assail  the  assailant  by  rousing  the  attention  of  the 
abstracted  horticulturist  to  the  projected  theft  of  the 
flower  he  proposed  to  transplant  to  his  own  home. 

Without  penetrating,  like  Madame  Camusot,  the 
secret  of  the  means  by  which  du  Croisier  and  the 
chief-justice  had  won  over  the  deputy -procureiir, 
Chesnel,  studying  these  divers  groups  and  interests, 
felt  that  his  reliance  must  be  on  the  procureurrdu-roi, 
on  Michu,  and  on  Camusot.  Two  judges  on  the 
d'Esgrignon  side  wTould  paralyze  the  affair ;  and  he 
knew  enough  of  old  Blondet's  wishes  to  feel  certain 
that  if  anything  could  warp  the  judge's  impartiality  it 
would  be  the  fulfilment  of  the  hope  of  his  life :  namely, 
the  appointment  of  his  son  as  a  substitute-judge. 
Consequently  Chesnel  went  to  bed  that  night  full  of 
confidence,  intending  to  go  the  next  morning  and  see 
Monsieur  Blondet  and  offer  him  the  realization  of  the 
hopes  he  had  cherished  so  long,  and,  at  the  same  time, 
enlighten  him  on  the  subject  of  du  Ronceret's  treachery. 
After  winning  over  the  judge  he  would  go  diplomati- 


156  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

cally  to  Camusot  and  persuade  him,  if  not  of  the  inno- 
cence, at  least  of  the  mere  imprudence  of  Victurnien, 
and  so  reduce  the  affair  to  the  simple  heedlessness  of 
a  young  man. 

Chesnel  did  not  sleep  either  peacefully  or  long ;  be- 
fore daylight  his  housekeeper  woke  him  up  to  see  a 
personage  of  some  importance  in  this  history,  an  at- 
tractive young  man,  —  no  other  than  the  Duchesse  de 
Maufrigneuse,  who  arrived  from  Paris  alone,  in  a 
caleche  with  post  horses,  and  dressed  in  man's  clothes. 

"  I  have  come  to  save  him  or  die  with  him,"  she  said 
to  the  notary,  who  thought  he  was  dreaming.  "  I  have 
brought  a  hundred  thousand  francs  which  the  kins  has 
given  me  out  of  his  private  purse  to  buy  Victurnien 's 
innocence  if  his  adversary  is  corruptible.  Should  we 
fail,  I  have  poison  with  me  to  save  him  from  indictment. 
But  we  shall  not  fail.  The  pi'ocureur-du-roi,  whom  I 
warned  of  what  was  going  on,  is  following  me.  He 
could  n't  accompany  me  for  he  wanted  to  get  his  orders 
from  the  Keeper  of  the  Seals." 

Chesnel,  wrapping  himself  in  his  dressing-gown,  fell 
at  her  feet  and  kissed  them. 

"We  are  saved!"  he  cried;  then  he  went  to  give 
orders  to  Brigitte  to  prepare  all  the  duchess  needed 
after  her  long  night-journey.  But  before  she  rested  he 
made  an  appeal  to  her  courage  and  showed  her  the 
necessity  of  going  to  the  examining  judge  before  day- 
light, so  that  no  one  might  get  hold  of  the  secret  of  her 
coming. 

"I've  a  passport  in  due  form,"  she  said,  showing 
him  the  document,  in  which  she  was  described  as 
Monsieur  le  Vicomte  Felix  de  Vandenesse,  Master  of 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  157 

Petitions,  and  private  secretary  to  the  king,  "  and 
don't  I  play  my  role  of  man  exceedingly  well?"  she 
asked,  pushing  up  her  wig  a  la  Titus,  and  twirling  her 
cane. 

"Ah!  Madame  la  duchesse,  you  are  an  angel," 
cried  Chesnel,  with  tears  in  his  eyes  (she  was  fated  to 
be  an  angel,  even  in  men's  clothes).  "Button  up 
your  coat,  wrap  your  cloak  about  you  to  your  very 
nose,  take  my  arm,  and  let  us  hurry  to  Camusot  before 
it  leaks  out  that  you  are  here." 

"  Camusot!     Shall  I  see  a  man  named  Camusot?  " 

"A  man  who  has  the  nose  of  his  name,"  replied 
Chesnel. 

Though  his  heart  was  wrung  with  anxiety,  the  old 
notary  judged  it  best  to  follow  the  caprices  of  the 
duchess,  to  laugh  when  she  laughed,  to  weep  when  she 
wept ;  but  he  groaned  inwardly  at  the  levity  of  the 
woman  who,  while  doing  a  great  thing,  found  food  for 
frivolous  jesting. 

While  Chesnel  dressed,  Madame  de  Maufrigneuse 
drank  the  coffee  a  la  crhne  which  Brigitte  served  to 
her,  and  discovered  the  superiority  of  provincial  cooks 
over  those  of  Paris,  who  disdain  such  minor  details  as 
coffee-making,  important  as  they  are  to  a  true  gour- 
mand. Thanks  to  the  foresight  necessary  to  satisfy 
her  master's  love  of  good  eating,  Brigitte  was  able  to 
offer  the  duchess  an  excellent  collation.  After  which 
Chesnel  and  his  pretty  companion  started  for  the  house 
of  Monsieur  and  Madame  Camusot. 

"Ah!  if  there's  a  Madame  Camusot  the  affair  is 
easily  managed,"  said  the  duchess. 

"All  the  easier,"  replied  Chesnel,  "  because  mad  a  me 


158  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

is  bored  to  death  among  provincials.  She  is  from 
Paris." 

"  Then  we  had  better  keep  no  secrets  from  her." 

"You  are  the  judge  as  to  what  we  must  hide  or 
reveal,"  said  Chesnel,  humbly.  "  I  think  she  would  be 
immensely  flattered  to  offer  hospitality  to  the  Duchesse 
de  Maufrigneuse.  In  order  not  to  compromise  us,  you 
will  have  to  stay  at  her  house  till  after  dark,  —  unless, 
of  course,  you  think  it  undesirable." 

"Is  she  handsome,  this  Madame  Camusot?  "  asked 
the  duchess,  playing  the  fop. 

"  She  is  something  of  a  queen  in  her  own  home," 
replied  the  notary. 

"Then,  of  course,  she  meddles  in  her  husband's 
law  concerns.  It  is  only  in  France,  my  dear  Monsieur 
Chesnel,  that  you  find  women  marrying  their  husbands 
so  effectually  that  they  marry  functions,  business,  and 
work  as  well.  In  Italy,  Spain,  and  England,  women 
make  it  a  point  of  honor  to  let  their  husbands  struggle 
with  such  cares  alone.  They  ignore  them  with  as  much 
pertinacity  as  our  bourgeoises  display  in  getting  at  the 
heart  of  such  matters.  Frenchwomen  want  to  know 
everything  in  conjugal  politics ;  they  are  incredibly 
jealous  on  that  point.  Consequently  in  all  the  diffi- 
culties of  life  in  France,  even  the  least,  you  will  invari- 
ably feel  the  hand  of  the  wife,  who  advises,  guides,  and 
inspires  her  husband.  Most  men  think  they  are  none 
the  worse  for  it.  In  England  a  married  man  might  be 
put  in  a  debtor's  prison,  and  on  his  return  home  his 
wife  would  make  him  a  scene  of  jealousy." 

"  Here  we  are,"  said  Chesnel,  "without  meeting  a 
soul.     Madame  la  duchesse,  you  ought  to  have  all  the 


The   G cillery  of  Antiquities.  159 

more  power  here  because  the  father  of  Madame  Camu- 
sot  is  an  usher  to  the  king,  named  Thirion." 

"And  the  king  never  remembered  it!  but  he  thinks 
of  nothing  now!  "  cried  the  duchess.  "  It  was  Thirion 
who  ushered  us  in,  —  the  Prince  de  Cadignan,  Monsieur 
de  Vandenesse,  and  me.  We  are  masters  here ;  no 
doubt  of  that.  Arrange  your  plans  with  the  husband 
while  I  talk  with  the  wife." 

The  maid-servant,  who  was  washing  and  dressing  the 
children,  ushered  the  two  strangers  into  a  little  room 
without  any  fire. 

"  Carry  this  card  to  your  mistress,"  said  the  duchess 
in  the  maid's  ear,  "and  don't  let  any  one  else  see  it. 
If  you  are  discreet  I  will  reward  you,  my  girl." 

The  woman  looked  amazed  at  hearing  a  feminine 
voice  from  the  lips  of  that  charming  3'oung  man. 

"Wake  up  Monsieur  Camusot,"  said  Chesnel,  "and 
tell  him  I  want  to  see  him  on  a  matter  of  importance." 

The  maid-servant  went  upstairs.  A  few  minutes 
later  Madame  Camusot,  in  her  dressing-gown,  ran  down 
to  receive  the  duchess,  after  pushing  Camusot,  in  his 
night-shirt,  with  all  his  clothes  after  him,  into  his 
study,  where  she  ordered  him  to  dress  himself  and 
wait  for  her.  This  scenic  effect  was  produced  by  the 
card,  on  which  was  engraved,  "  La  Duchesse  de  Mau- 
frigneuse."  The  daughter  of  the  king's  usher  com- 
prehended the  affair  at  a  glance. 

"Well,  well,  Monsieur  Chesnel,"  cried  the  maid, 
returning,  "wouldn't  one  think  a  hurricane  was  blow- 
ing through  the  house?  There's  monsieur  dressing  in 
his  study!     You  are  to  go  up  there  and  see  him." 

"  Silence  about  all  this,"  replied  the  notary. 


160  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities, 

Feeling  himself  supported  by  the  duchess,  who  had 
the  verbal  consent  of  the  king  to  measures  which  would 
save  the  Comte  d'Esgrignon,  Chesnel  now  assumed  an 
air  of  authority  which  served  him  far  better  with 
Camusot  than  the  humble  tone  he  would  have  other- 
wise taken  had  he  been  alone  and  unsupported. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "  my  words  last  evening 
may  have  surprised  you,  but  they  were  serious.  The 
house  of  Esgrignon  counts  on  you  to  examine  this 
affair  —  from  which  it  must  issue  without  a  stain  — - 
judiciously." 

14  Monsieur,"  replied  the  judge,  "  I  shall  take  no  no- 
tice of  what  is  derogatory  to  me  and  subversive  of  justice 
in  your  words,  for,  up  to  a  certain  point,  your  position 
toward  the  d'Esgrignon  family  excuses  it.     But  —  " 

"Monsieur,  pardon  me  for  interrupting  you,"  said 
Chesnel.  "I  have  come  to  tell  you  things  that  your 
superiors  think  but  cannot  say ;  things  which  able  men 
divine  at  once,  —  and  you  are  an  able  man.  Let  us 
suppose,  therefore,  that  this  young  man  has  acted  im- 
prudently ;  do  you  think  that  the  king,  the  court,  the 
ministry,  will  be  pleased  to  see  a  name  like  that  of 
Esgrignon  dragged  before  the  court  of  assizes?  Is 
it  for  the  interest  of  either  the  kingdom  or  the  coun- 
try that  the  old  historic  houses  should  fall?  Is  not 
equality,  the  great  word  of  the  Opposition  in  these 
days,  best  guaranteed  by  the  preservation  of  an  aris- 
tocracy consecrated  by  time  ?  Well,  let  me  tell  you 
that  not  only  has  there  been  no  imprudence,  but  we 
have,  most  innocently,  fallen  into  a  trap." 

"I  am  curious  to  know  in  what  way,"  said  the 
judge. 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  161 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  Chesnel,  "for  the  last  two  years 
Monsieur  du   Croisier  has    allowed    the   Comte    d'Es- 
grignon  to  draw   upon  him  for  large  sums  of  money. 
We  can  produce  drafts  accepted  by  him  for  more  than 
three  hundred  thousand  francs,  which  sums  were  paid 
to    him    by  me  —  mark   this  —  both  before  and   after 
they  fell  due.     Monsieur  le  Comte  d'Esgrignon  is  able 
to  show  a  receipt  for  the  sum  drawn  by  him  anterior 
to  the  draft  now  called  a  forgery.      Do  you  not  see, 
therefore,  that  the  complaint  now  made  is  the  work  of 
hatred  and  partisanship?     This  accusation  of  the  heir 
of  an  old  family  by  the  most  dangerous  adversaries  of 
the  throne  and  altar  is,  in  fact,  a  vile  calumny.     There 
is  no  more  forgery  in  this  affair  than  I  am  guilty  of  in 
my  practice.     Summon    Madame   du    Croisier   before 
you ;   she  is  still  ignorant  of  this  charge  of  forgery. 
She  will  tell  you  that  I  myself  carried  the  money  to 
her  in  her  husband's  absence,  and  that  she  has  kept 
it  simply  because  he  did    not  ask  her  for  it.     Ques- 
tion du  Croisier  on  the  subject ;  he  will  tell  you  that 
lie  was    not  aware  of  my  remittance   to  Madame  du 
Croisier." 

"Monsieur,"  replied  the  examining-judge,  "  such 
assertions  may  do  very  well  in  the  salon  of  Monsieur 
d'Esgrignon  or  among  persons  who  know  nothing  of 
business  ;  but  an  examining-judge,  unless  he  is  an  im- 
becile, will  not  believe  that  a  woman  so  submissive  to 
her  husband  as  Madame  du  Croisier  has  kept  in  her 
secretary  three  hundred  thousand  francs  without  a 
word  to  her  husband  ;  nor  will  he  believe  for  a  moment 
that  an  old  notary  would  not  have  informed  Monsieur 
du  Croisier  of  this  remittance  on  his  return." 

11 


162  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"The  old  notary  was  in  Paris,  monsieur,  endeavor- 
ing to  check  the  dissipations  of  the  young  count." 

"I  have  not  yet  examined  the  Comte  d'Esgri- 
gnon,"  resumed  the  judge;  "his  answers  will  clear 
my  mind." 

"Is  he  in  solitary  confinement?  "  asked  the  notary. 

"Yes." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Chesnel,  seeing  the  danger,  "the 
examination  may  be  conducted  either  favorably  or  un- 
favorably for  us ;  but  it  is  for  you  to  choose  between 
taking  Madame  du  Croisier's  deposition  as  to  the  fact 
of  the  remittance  of  the  money  before  the  draft  was 
made,  and  examining  a  poor  young  man  who,  in  his 
trouble,  may  forget  everything  and  so  commit  himself. 
You  must  consider  which  is  the  more  likely,  that  a 
woman  ignorant  of  business  should  forget  to  give  her 
husband  the  money,  or  that  a  d'Esgrignon  should  be 
guilty  of  forgery." 

"  All  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,"  said  the  judge  ; 
"the  question  is:  Did  Comte  d'Esgrignon  take  the 
bottom  of  a  letter  addressed  to  him  by  du  Croisier  and 
turn  it  into  a  draft  for  money?" 

"Yes;  he  had  the  right  to  do  so,"  cried  Madame 
Camusot,  suddenly  appearing,  followed  by  a  handsome 
young  man.  "  Monsieur  Chesnel  had  paid  in  the 
money."  She  stooped  to  her  husband's  ear:  "You 
are  to  be  substitute- judge  in  Paris  at  the  first  vacancy ; 
you  are  serving  the  king  himself  in  this  affair.  I  am 
assured  of  that;  you  will  not  be  forgotten,"  she 
whispered.  "This  young  man  is  the  Duchesse  de 
Maufrigneuse;  never  tell  that  you've  seen  her;  do  all 
they  want  for  the  young  count  boldly." 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  163 

"Messieurs,"  said  the  judge,  "if  the  examination 
were  conducted  in  a  manner  to  show  the  innocence  of 
the  young  man,  how  can  I  answer  for  what  the  chief- 
justice  ma}7  do?  Monsieur  Chesnel,  and  you,  my  dear, 
know  his  object  well  enough." 

"  Ta,  ta,  ta !  "  said  Madame  Camusot,  "  go  and  see 
Monsieur  Michu  yourself  this  morning ;  tell  him  how 
the  arrest  of  the  young  count  was  made  ;  you  '11  be  two 
against  two,  at  any  rate.  Michu  is  from  Paris,  and 
you  know  his  devotion  to  the  nobility,  —  birds  of  a 
feather,  as  they  say." 

At  this  moment  the  voice  of  Mademoiselle  Cadot, 
Judge  Blondet's  housekeeper,  was  heard  at  the  door, 
saying  that  she  had  brought  an  urgent  letter.  Camusot 
went  out  and  soon  returned,  reading  these  words,  — 

"  The  assistant  chief-justice  requests  Monsieur  Camusot  to 
sit  on  the  bench  to-day  and  for  some  days  to  come  ;  so 
that  the  court  may  be  full  in  the  absence  of  the  chief- 
justice.     He  presents  his  compliments,"  etc. 

"  That  means  j^ou  are  not  allowed  to  examine  the 
d'Esgrignon  affair,"  cried  Madame  Camusot.  "  Did  n't 
I  tell  you,  my  dear,  they  would  play  you  some  ugly- 
trick?  The  chief- justice  has  gone  to  prejudice  the 
procureur-du-roi  against  }7ou.  They  are  delaying  the 
examination  on  that  pretext ;  and  before  you  can  make 
it,  you  will  lose  your  place.     Is  n't  that  clear?  " 

"  No,  you  will  not  lose  your  place,  monsieur,"  said 
the  duchess.  "The  i)rocureur-du-roi  will,  I  trust,  ar- 
rive in  time." 

"When  the  2:>rocureur~du~r°i  comes,"  said  little 
Madame  Camusot,  eagerly,  "  he  must  find  the  matter 


164  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

all  settled.  Yes,  my  dear,  yes,"  she  added  to  her 
stupefied  husband.  u  Ah !  old  hypocrite  of  a  chief- 
justice!  You  think  to  play  wily  with  us,  but  you '11 
repent  it !  you  want  to  serve  us  a  dish  of  your  own 
concoction  ;  you  shall  have  two,  cooked  by  your  hand- 
maid, Cecile-Amelie  Thirion  !  Poor  good  old  Blondet ! 
lucky  for  him  that  Du  Ronceret  has  gone  off  to 
destroy  us ;  it  will  end  in  his  marrying  that  booby  of 
a  son  to  Mademoiselle  Blandureau.  I  '11  sow  some 
seeds  into  Pere  Blondet  myself.  You,  Camusot,  must 
go  at  once  to  Monsieur  Michu,  while  Madame  la 
duchesse  and  I  go  and  talk  to  old  Blondet.  You  may 
expect  to  hear  by  nightfall  that  I  have  been  walking 
the  streets  with  a  young  lover.     Come,  madame." 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  165 


XL 


A    JUDICIAL    BATTLE. 


Madame  Camusot  took  the  arm  of  the  duchess  and 
led  her  through  the  loneliest  streets  of  the  town  to 
Judge  Blondet's  house.  Chesnel  during  this  time  went 
to  see  the  young  count  in  prison,  where  Camusot  gave 
him  an  order  of  admittance  to  the  solitary  cells. 

The  cooks  and  servants  and  others  who  get  up  early 
in  the  provinces,  seeing  Madame  Camusot  and  the 
duchess  making  their  way  through  the  back  streets, 
were  certain  that  the  elegant  young  man  was  a  lover 
from  Paris.  As  Ce'cile-Amelie  had  foreseen,  the  news 
of  her  behavior  circulated  through  the  town,  and 
before  night  had  given  rise  to  much  gossip. 

Madame  Camusot  and  her  assumed  lover  found  old 
Blondet  in  his  greenhouse.  He  saluted  the  wife  of  his 
colleague  and  her  companion,  casting  an  uneasy  and 
scrutinizing  look  on  the  handsome  young  man. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  present  to  you  a  cousin  of 
my  husband,"  said  Madame  Camusot,  motioning  to  the 
duchess,  "  one  of  the  most  distinguished  horticulturists 
of  Paris,  now  on  his  way  back  from  Brittany,  who  can 
only  stay  with  us  for  this  one  day.  Having  heard  of 
your  beautiful  flowers  and  shrubs,  he  was  most  anxious 
to  see  them,  and  I  have  ventured  to  bring  him  here  at 
this  early  hour,  hoping  to  find  you  at  home." 


166  The  Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"  Ah !  monsieur  is  a  flower-lover,"  said  the  old 
judge. 

The  duchess  bowed  without  speaking. 

"Here,"  said  the  judge,  "is  my  coffee-plant,  and 
also  my  tea-plant." 

"Why,"  asked  Madame  Camusot,  "did  the  chief- 
justice  go  to  Paris?  I'll  lay  a  wager  his  journey  con- 
cerns Monsieur  Camusot." 

"Yes,  it  does.  Here,  monsieur,  is  the  choicest 
cactus  in  existence,"  he  continued,  showing  a  plant  in 
a  pot  which  looked  like  a  rattan  cane  covered  with 
leprosy.  "It  comes  from  New  Holland.  You  are 
very  young,  monsieur,  to  be  a  horticulturist." 

"  Dear  Monsieur  Blondet,  leave  your  flowers  for 
a  minute,"  said  Madame  Camusot;  "I  want  to  speak 
to  you  about  your  plans,  your  hopes.  I  mean  the 
marriage  of  your  son  to  Mademoiselle  Blandureau. 
You  are  duped  by  the  chief- justice." 

"  Pooh!  "  said  the  judge,  incredulously. 

"Yes,"  she  continued;  "  if  you  cultivated  society 
a  little  more  and  your  flowers  a  little  less,  you  would 
kuow  that  the  dot  and  the  hopes  you  have  planted, 
watered,  raked,  and  weeded,  are  on  the  point  of  being 
gathered  by  tricky  fingers." 

"Madame!  " 

"Ah!  nobody  of  this  town  would  have  the  courage- 
to  face  the  wrath  of  the  chief-justice  by  warning  you. 
But  I,  who  am  not  a  native,  and  who  hope  and  expect 
before  long  to  go  to  Paris,  I  can  tell  }Tou  that  Chesnel's 
successor  has  formally  asked  the  hand  of  Claire  Blan- 
dureau for  that  young  du  Ronceret,  to  whom  his  father 
and  mother  give  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  francs. 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  167 

As  to  Fabien  himself,  he  has  promised  to  enter  the  bar 
in  order  to  get  the  judge's  place  that  you  want  for 
your  son." 

The  old  judge  dropped  the  pot  he  had  taken  in  his 
hand  to  show  the  duchess. 

"Ah,  my  cactus!  oh,  my  son!  Mademoiselle 
Blandureau !  oh,  see !  the  flower  is  broken  off  !  " 

"No,  it  is  n't;  you  can  stick  it  up,"  said  Madame 
Camusot,  laughing.  "  If  you  want  to  see  your  son 
made  judge  within  a  month,  we  will  tell  you  how  to 
manage  it." 

"  Monsieur,"  said  the  judge  to  the  duchess,  "come 
this  way ;  you  shall  see  my  pelargoniums,  a  magnifi- 
cent sight  when  they  flower.  Why,"  he  asked,  return- 
ing to  Madame  Camusot,  "  do  you  talk  to  me  of  such 
matters  before  your  cousin  ?  " 

"  Because  everything  depends  on  him,"  replied 
Madame  Camusot. 

"Pooh!" 

"  That  }Toung  man  is  a  flower." 

"Ah!" 

"That's  the  Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse,  sent  here 
by  the  king  to  save  young  d'Esgrignon,  arrested 
yesterday  on  a  charge  of  forgery  brought  against  him 
by  du  Croisier.  Madame  la  duchesse  has  the  word  of 
the  Keeper  of  the  Seals  that  he  will  ratify  whatever 
promises   she  makes   to   us  — " 

"  My  cactus  is  safe!  "  said  the  judge,  who  was  all 
the  while  examining  his  precious  plant.  "  Go  on ; 
I'm  listening  to  3Tou." 

"  Consult  with  Camusot  and  Michu  how  to  smother 
the  affair  at  once,  and  your  son  will  get  the  place.    His 


168  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

appointment  shall  be  sent  down  in  time  to  defeat  du 
Ronceret's  intrigues  with  the  Blandureaus.  Your  son 
will  do  better  still.  Within  a  year  he  can  succeed 
Monsieur  Camusot.  The  procureur-du-roi  will  be  here 
to-day.  Monsieur  Sauvager  will  probably  be  forced  to 
send  in  his  resignation  on  account  of  his  conduct  in 
this  affair.  My  husband  will  show  you  documents 
which  establish  the  innocence  of  the  young  count,  and 
will  prove  that  the  forgery  was  a  trap  laid  for  him 
by  du  Croisier." 

The  old  judge  entered  the  Olympic  amphitheatre  of 
his  pelargoniums  and  bowed  to  the  duchess. 

"  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "  if  what  you  desire  is  legal, 
it  can  be  done." 

"  Monsieur,"  replied  the  duchess,  "  place  your 
resignation  in  the  hands  of  Monsieur  Chesnel  to- 
morrow,  and  I  promise  to  send  down  the  appointment 
of  your  son  within  a  week.  But  do  not  give  in  your 
resignation  till  you  have  heard  the  procureur-du-roi 
confirm  what  I  say.  You  lawyers  understand  each 
other  best.  Only,  you  must  let  him  know  that  the 
Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse  has  pledged  her  word  to 
you.  Remember  to  keep  my  visit  here  a  secret,"  she 
added. 

The  old  judge  kissed  her  hand  and  began  to  gather, 
pitilessly,  the  finest  flowers  of  his  collection,  which  he 
offered  to  her. 

"No,  no!"  she  cried,  "  give  them  to  madame ;  it 
is  n't  natural  to  see  a  young  man  wearing  flowers  when 
he  has  a  pretty  woman  on  his  arm." 

"  Before  you  go  to  court,"  said  Madame  Camusot, 
"go  to  Chesnel' s  successor  and  ask  about  the  proposals 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  169 

he  has  made  to  the  Blandureaus  in  the  name  of  Mon- 
sieur and  Madame  du  Rouceret." 

The  old  judge,  thunderstruck  by  the  duplicity  of  the 
chief-justice,  stood  planted  on  his  legs  behind  his  iron 
gateway,  gazing  at  the  two  women  as  they  hurried 
away  through  the  side  streets.  He  saw  the  edifice  of 
his  hopes,  built  slowly  and  painfully  during  the  last 
ten  years,  undermined  and  crumbling  down.  Could  it 
be  true?  He  suspected  some  trick,  and  he  hurried  to 
the  office  of  Chesnel's  successor. 

At  half-past  nine  o'clock,  before  the  court  opened, 
the  three  judges,  Blondet,  Camusot,  and  Michu,  arrived 
with  extraordinary  punctuality  in  their  council-cham- 
ber, the  door  of  which  was  carefully  closed  by  the  old 
judge  as  the  last  two  entered  together. 

"Well,  monsieur,"  said  Michu,  addressing  him,  "so 
Monsieur  Sauvager  has  obtained  a  warrant  against  the 
Comte  d'Esgrignon  without  consulting  the  procureur- 
du-roi,  and  solely  to  gratify  the  malice  of  du  Croisier, 
an  enemy  to  the  king's  government.  That's  a  pretty 
topsy-turvy !  The  chief-justice,  on  his  part,  has  gone 
away  and  stopped  the  examination ;  we  know  nothing 
of  the  facts  of  the  case.  Can  it  be  that  they  are  tiding 
to  force  our  hand  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  first  word  that  I  have  heard  of  the 
affair,"  said  the  old  judge,  furious  at  the  actions  of  the 
chief-justice  in  regard  to  the  Blandureaus. 

Chesnel's  successor,  a  tool  of  du  Ronceret's,  had 
fallen  into  a  trap  laid  for  him  by  Blondet  to  discover 
the  truth,  and  had  just  betrayed  the  secret. 

"How  fortunate  that  we  have  spoken  of  it,  my  dear 
master!  "  said  Camusot  to  the  old  judge,   "otherwise 


170  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

your  son  would  never  have  sat  upon  the  fleurs-de-lis  or 
married  Mademoiselle  Blandureau." 

"  But  the  point  in  question  is  not  my  son,  or  his 
marriage,"  said  the  judge;  "it  concerns  the  young 
Comte  d'Esgrignon  :   is  he  or  is  he  not  guilty?  " 

"  It  seems,"  replied  Monsieur  Michu,  "  that  the 
money  was  placed  in  Madame  du  Croisier's  hands  by 
Chesnel,  during  her  husband's  absence,  and  they  have 
simply  made  a  crime  out  of  an  irregularity.  The 
3Toung  man,  as  stated  in  the  complaint,  took  the  lower 
part  of  a  letter  on  which  du  Croisier  had  signed  his 
name,  and  made  it  into  a  draft  on  the  Kellers." 

"  A  great  imprudence  !  "  said  Camusot. 

"  But  if  du  Croisier  had  already  received  the 
money,"  said  Blondet,  "  why  does  he  complain?  " 

"  He  does  not  know,  or  he  pretends  not  to  know, 
that  his  wife  received  the  money,"  said  Camusot. 

"A  provincial  revenge,"  said  Michu. 

"Yet  it  certainly  looks  to  me  like  forgery,"  said 
old  Blondet,  the  light  of  whose  judicial  conscience  no 
sense  of  anger  could,  darken. 

"  Do  you  think  so?  "  said  Camusot.  "  But,  in  the 
first  place,  supposing  that  the  young  count  had  no 
right  to  draw  on  du  Croisier,  the  signature  is  not 
forged.  The  count,  however,  thought  himself  justified 
by  the  information  sent  him  by  Chesnel  that  the  money 
had  been  paid  in." 

"In  that  case,  where  can  any  crime  at  all  be 
charged?  The  essence  of  forgery  in  civil  matters  is 
that  it  constitutes  a  damage  to  another  person." 

"  Precisely  ;  but  if  we  consider  du  Croisier's  version 
as  true,  it  is  clear  that  the  signature  was  diverted  from 


The    Gallery  of  Antiquities.  171 

its  original  purpose  and  used  to  draw  a  sum  from  the 
Kellers,  whom  du  Croisier  had  instructed  to  advance  no 
more  money,"  replied  Camusot. 

"  This  charge,  messieurs,"  said  Blondet,  "  strikes  me 
as  trumpery.  You  had  the  money ;  I,  Comte  d'Es- 
grignon,  ought  to  have  waited  for  an  order  from  you; 
but  I  was  in  urgent  need  of  money,  and  I  —  oh, 
come  now !  that  complaint  is  spite,  or  vengeance.  The 
law  requires,  to  constitute  forgery,  that  there  shall 
be  an  intention  to  fraudulently  obtain  a  sum  of  money, 
and  gain  a  benefit  to  which  we  are  not  entitled.  There 
is  no  forgery  in  this  case,  either  under  the  terms  of 
Roman  law  or  under  those  of  existing  jurisprudence. 
Forgery  carries  with  it  the  intent  to  steal ;  but  where 
is  the  theft  in  this  case?  "What  a  strange  state  of 
things !  here  is  the  chief-justice  gone  away  in  order 
to  put  a  stop  to  an  examination  which  ought  to  have 
been  made  promptly.  I  find  I  never  really  knew  the 
chief-justice  until  to-da}T ;  in  future  he  may  draft  his 
own  judgments  himself.  You  ought  to  lose  no  time 
in  making  the  examination,  Monsieur  Camusot." 

"  Yes,"  said  Michu  ;  "  and  my  opinion  is  that  instead 
of  setting  the  young  man  at  liberty  under  bail  it  would 
be  well  to  clear  him  at  once.  All  depends  on  the  ex- 
aminations of  du  Croisier  and  his  wife.  You  could 
summon  them  while  the  session  is  going  on,  Monsieur 
Camusot,  receive  their  testimony  before  four  o'clock, 
make  your  report  to-night,  and  we  will  take  up  the 
case    at   once    and    decide    it    to-morrow    before    the 


session." 


"While  the  lawyers  are  pleading,  we  can  agree  on 
the  course  to  follow,"  said  Blondet  to  Camusot. 


172  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

After  which  the  three  judges  put  on  their  robes  and 
entered  the  court-room. 

At  twelve  o'clock  Monseigneur  the  bishop  accom- 
panied Mademoiselle  Armande  to  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon, 
where  he  met  Madame  du  Croisier's  confessor,  Mon- 
sieur Couturier,  and  Chesnel.  After  a  short  con- 
ference between  the  prelate  and  the  confessor,  the 
latter  left  the  house  to  visit  his  penitent. 

An  hour  earlier,  du  Croisier  had  received  a  summons 
to  appear,  between  one  and  two  o'clock,  at  the  office  of 
the  examining-judge.  He  obeyed  it  under  the  pressure 
of  legitimate  suspicions.  The  chief-justice,  unable,  of 
course,  to  foresee  the  arrival  of  the  Duchesse  de  Mau- 
frigneuse,  that  of  the  procureur-du-roi,  and  the  sudden 
confederation  of  the  three  judges,  had  forgotten  to 
trace  out  a  line  of  conduct  to  du  Croisier  in  case  the 
examination  should,  after  all,  begin.  Neither  of  them 
expected  such  celerity.  Du  Croisier  hastened  to  obey 
the  summons,  in  order  to  discover,  if  possible,  Camusot's 
bias.     He  was  consequently  obliged  to  answer. 

The  judge  put  to  him  summarily  the  following  six 
questions :  Was  the  signature  to  the  so-called  forged 
draft  genuine  ?  Had  he  transacted  business  with 
the  Comte  d'Esgrignon  before  the  draft  was  made? 
Was  Comte  d'Esgrignon  in  the  habit  of  drawing  bills 
of  exchange  upon  him  with  and  without  notice?  Had 
he  not  written  letters  in  which  he  authorized  Monsieur 
d'Esgrignon  to  draw  upon  him  at  any  time  ?  Had 
Maitre  Chesnel  paid  in  to  him  on  several  occasions  the 
money  so  drawn?  Was  he  absent  from  town  at  a 
certain  period? 

These  questions  were,  of  course,   answered  in  the 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  173 

affirmative  by  clu  Croisier.  In  spite  of  bis  attempts  at 
verbal  explanation,  the  judge  held  him  steadily  to  the 
alternative  of  yes  or  no.  When  these  questions  and 
answers  were  entered  upon  the  written  report,  the  judge 
ended  the  examination  with  the  following  astounding 
question :  — 

"Did  du  Croisier  know  that  the  amount  of  the  so- 
called  forged  draft  had  been  deposited  with  him, 
according  to  the  declaration  of  Maitre  Chesnel  and 
a  letter  of  advice  from  the  said  Chesnel  to  Comte 
d'Esgrignon,  five  days  before  the  date  of  the  draft?" 

This  question  terrified  du  Croisier.  He  asked  what 
such  an  inquiry  meant.  Was  he  supposed  to  be  the 
guilty  man,  and  Comte  d'Esgrignon  the  complainant? 
He  remarked  also  that  if  the  money  had  been  in 
his  hands  he  should  have  had  no  grounds  for  the 
charge. 

"  Justice  is  enlightened,"  said  the  judge,  dismissing 
him,  and  taking  due  note  of  du  Croisier's  last  remark. 

"  But,  monsieur,  the  money  — " 

"You  will  find  it  in  your  own  possession,"  replied 
the  judge. 

Chesnel,  also  summoned,  explained  the  circum- 
stances. The  truth  of  his  assertion  was  corroborated 
by  Madame  du  Croisier's  deposition.  The  judge  had 
already  examined  Comte  d'Esgrignon,  who,  prompted 
by  Chesnel,  produced  the  first  letter,  in  which  du 
Croisier  requested  the  young  man  to  draw  upon  him 
without  giving  himself  the  trouble  to  deposit  the  money 
in  advance.  He  also  produced  Chesnel's  letter  to  him 
advising  him  of  the  deposit  of  three  hundred  thousand 
,   francs   with  du  Croisier.      With   such  testimony  and 


174  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

documents  the  innocence  of  the  young  count  could  not 
fail  to  appear  before  the  court. 

Du  Croisier  was  white  with  anger  when  he  reached 
home  ;  his  lips  foamed  with  his  concentrated  rage.  He 
found  his  wife  sitting  in  the  salon  at  the  corner  of  the 
fireplace  doing  worsted  work.  She  trembled  when  she 
raised  her  eyes  to  his ;  but  she  had  chosen  her  course 
and  meant  to  keep  it. 

"Madame,"  stuttered  du  Croisier,  "what  testimony 
did  you  give  before  the  judge?  You  have  dishonored, 
betrayed,  destroyed  me  !  " 

"I  have  saved  you,  monsieur,"  she  replied.  "If 
you  have  the  honor  some  day  to  ally  yourself  to  the 
d'Esgrignon  family  by  the  marriage  of  your  niece  with 
the  young  count,  you  will  owe  it  to  the  course  I  have 
just  taken." 

"A  miracle  indeed!  Balaam's  she-ass  speaks!" 
he  cried.  "I  shall  never  be  surprised  again.  Where 
are  the  three  hundred  thousand  francs  Monsieur  Caniu- 
sot  says  are  in  my  possession  ?  " 

"  Here,"  she  said,  taking  the  roll  of  bank-bills  from 
beneath  her  sofa-pillow.  "I  did  not  commit  a  sin  in 
declaring  that  Monsieur  Chesnel  gave  them  to  me." 

"  In  my  absence?" 

"You  were  not  here." 

"  Do  you  swear  that  on  your  eternal  salvation?  " 

"  I  swear  it,"  she  said  calmly. 

"  Why  did  you  never  tell  me?  "  he  asked. 

"I  did  wrong  in  not  doing  so,"  replied  his  wife; 
"but  my  mistake  leads  to  your  advantage.  Your 
niece  will  one  day  be  Marquise  d'Esgrignon,  and  per- 
haps you  yourself  may  be  deputy  if  you  conduct  your- 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  175 

self  wisely  in  this  deplorable  affair.  You  have  gone 
too  far;    endeavor  to  retrace  your  steps." 

Du  Croisier  walked  up  and  down  the  salon  in  great 
agitation  of  mind ;  and  his  wife  awaited,  in  equal  agita- 
tion, the  result  of  this  promenade.  Finally  du  Croisier 
rang  the  bell. 

"  I  shall  receive  no  one  this  evening  ;  close  the  great 
gate,"  he  said  to  the  footman.  "  To  all  who  come  }tou 
will  say  that  madame  and  I  are  in  the  country.  We 
shall  start  directly  after  dinner,  which  you  are  to  serve 
half  an  hour  earlier  than  usual." 

That  evening  all  the  salons,  all  the  shopkeepers,  the 
paupers,  the  beggars,  the  nobility,  the  business  men  — 
in  short,  the  whole  town  —  talked  of  the  great  news : 
the  arrest  of  Comte  d'Esgrignon  on  a  charge  of  for- 
gery !  A  d'Esgrignon  would  appear  before  the  court 
of  assizes !  be  condemned  and  branded !  Those  to 
whom  the  honor  of  the  house  of  d'Esgrignon  was  pre- 
cious denied  the  fact.  After  nightfall  Chesnel  went  to 
Madame  Camusot's  house  to  fetch  the  young  stranger, 
whom  he  took  to  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon,  where  Made- 
moiselle Armande  awaited  her.  The  poor  aunt  led  the 
duchess  to  her  own  room,  which  she  gave  up  to  her; 
the  bishop  was  installed  in  Victurnien's. 

When  Armande  was  alone  with  the  duchess,  she 
gave  her  a  piteous  look. 

"You  owe  your  help  to  the  unhappy  child  who  has 
ruined  himself  for  you,  madame,"  she  said,  —  "a  child 
to  whom  everything  here  has  been  sacrificed." 

The  duchess  had  already  cast  her  woman's  glance 
around  the  room  and  seen  the  image  of  the  life  of  its 
noble  occupant :    that   cold,   barren    room,   without  a 


176  The   Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

sign  of  luxury,  was  like  the  cell  of  a  nun.  Diane  de 
Mauf  rigneuse,  deeply  moved  as  she  thought  of  the  past, 
the  present,  and  the  future  of  that  existence,  and  recog- 
nized the  unspeakable  contrast  her  own  presence  made 
there,  could  not  restrain  her  tears,  which  rolled  down 
her  cheeks  and  were  her  only  answer. 

"  Ah  !  I  do  wrong ;  forgive  me,  Madame  la  duchesse," 
said  the  Christian,  rising  above  Victurnien's  aunt ;  "  you 
were  ignorant  of  our  poverty.  Victurnien  was  inca- 
pable of  telling  you.  Besides,  now  that  I  see  you,  all 
things  seem  explained,  even  crime." 

Mademoiselle  Armande,  thin,  withered,  and  pale,  but 
beautiful  like  those  stiff,  attenuated  forms  which  Ger- 
man painters  alone  know  how  to  render,  had  tears  in 
her  eyes. 

"  Be  comforted,  dear  angel,"  said  the  duchess  at  last ; 
"he  is  saved." 

"Yes,  but  his  honor,  his  future!  Chesnel  told  me 
that  the  king  knows  all." 

"  We  will  try  to  repair  the  evil,"  said  the  duchess. 

Mademoiselle  Armande  went  down  to  the  salon, 
where  she  found  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities  assembled 
in  full  force.  All  its  members  were  present,  as  much 
to  do  honor  to  Monseigneur  as  to  rally  round  the  mar- 
quis. Chesnel,  stationed  in  the  antechamber,  requested 
each  arrival  to  keep  the  deepest  silence  on  the  great 
affair,  that  the  venerable  marquis  might  get  no  inkling 
of  it.  The  loyal  Frank  was  capable  of  killing  his  son 
or  du  Croisier  ;  either  would  have  seemed  to  him  equally 
guilty.  By  a  strange  chance,  the  marquis,  happy  in  his 
son's  return  to  Paris,  talked  more  than  usual  of  Vic- 
turnien.    Victurnien  was  soon  to  have  a  place  in  the 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  177 

king's  household  ;  the  king  had  at  last  remembered  the 
d'Esgrignons.  All  present,  with  death  in  their  souls, 
praised  Victurnien's  good  conduct.  Mademoiselle  Ar- 
mande  prepared  the  way  for  the  sudden  apparition  of 
her  nephew,  by  saying  she  had  urged  him  to  pay  them 
a  visit,  and  he  might  be  even  now  on  the  road. 

"Bah!"  said  the  marquis,  standing  before  the  fire- 
place, "he  is  managing  affairs  so  well  where  he  is,  he 
ought  to  stay  there,  and  not  think  of  the  joy  his  old 
father  would  have  in  seeing  him.  The  king's  service 
first,  before  all  else." 

Those  who  heard  that  sentence  shuddered.  The 
trial  mioht  end  in  giving  the  shoulder  of  a  d'Esgrignon 
to  the  branding  of  an  executioner.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment of  awful  silence.  The  old  Marquise  de  Casteran 
could  not  restrain  a  tear,  which  rolled  through  her 
rouge  as  she  turned  away  her  head. 

The  next  morning,  about  midday,  the  weather  being 
superb,  the  whole  population  turned  into  the  streets, 
and  from  group  to  group  the  one  topic  of  discourse 
was  the  great  affair.  AVas  the  young  count,  or  was  he 
not,  in  prison?  At  this  moment  the  well-known  tilbury 
of  Comte  d'Esgrignon  was  seen  coming  down  the  rue 
Saint-Blaise  from  the  prefecture.  It  was  driven  by 
the  count  himself,  accompanied  by  an  elegant  young 
man  ;  both  were  laughing  and  talking  gayly,  and  each 
had  a  Bengal  rose  in  his  buttonhole.  They  created  a 
scenic  effect  impossible  to  describe. 

At  ten  o'clock  a  verdict  of  non-lieu  had  set  the 
young  count  at  liberty.  Du  Croisier  was  thunderstruck 
by  a  rider  which  reserved  to  the  Comte  d'Esgrignon 
the  right  to  sue  him  for  calumny.     Old  Chesuel  walked 

12 


178  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

up  the  Grande-Rue,  as  if  by  chance,  while  Victurnien 
drove  down,  saying  to  all  who  questioned  him  that  du 
Croisier  had  laid  an  infamous  trap  against  the  honor 
of  the  house  of  Esgrignon,  and  that  if  he  was  not 
sued  for  calumny  he  might  lay  his  escape  to  the  noble 
feelings  which  actuated  the  d'Esgrignon  family. 

On  the  evening  of  that  famous  day,  after  the  Mar- 
quis d'Esgrignon  had  gone  to  bed,  the  young  count, 
Mademoiselle  Armande,  and  the  handsome  young  man, 
who  was  about  to  return  to  Paris,  were  in  the  salon 
alone  with  the  Chevalier,  from  whom  the  sex  of  the 
charming  youth  could  no  longer  be  concealed. 

"  The  house  of  Esgrignon  is  saved,"  said  Chesnel ; 
"  but  it  will  not  recover  from  this  shock  in  a  hun- 
dred years.  We  must  now  pay  the  debt,  and  the 
only  course  open  to  you,  Monsieur  le  comte,  is  to 
marry  an  heiress." 

"  And  take  her  where  you  can  find  her,"  said  the 
duchess. 

"Another  mesalliance!"  exclaimed  Mademoiselle 
Armande. 

The  duchess  laughed. 

"  It  is  better  to  marry  than  die,"  she  said,  drawing 
from  the  pocket  of  her  waistcoat  a  little  phial  given  her 
by  the  apothecary  of  the  Tuileries. 

Mademoiselle  made  a  gesture  of  horror;  but  old 
Chesnel  took  the  duchess's  hand,  and  kissed  it  with- 
out permission. 

"  You  are  all  crazy  here,"  said  the  duchess.  "  You 
expect  to  stay  in  the  fifteenth  century  when  the  rest  of 
us  are  living  in  the  nineteenth.  My  dear  innocents, 
there's  no  longer  a  nobility  ;  there  's  nothing  left  but  an 


The   Gallery  of  Antiquities.  179 

aristocracy.  Napoleon's  civil  Code  killed  pedigrees  as 
his  cannon  had  already  killed  feudality.  You  will  be 
greater  nobles  than  you  are  now  when  you  have 
money.  Marry  whom  you  will,  Victurnien,  you  will 
ennoble  your  wife ;  that  is  the  most  solid  privilege  that 
remains  to  French  nobles.  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand 
married  Madame  Grandt  without  degrading  himself ; 
and  remember  that  Louis  XIV.  married  the  widow 
Scarron." 

4 'But  he  did  not  marry  her  for  money,"  said  Made- 
moiselle Armande. 

44  If  the  Comtesse  d'Esorio'non  were  the  niece  of  a 
du  Croisier,  would  you  receive  her?"  said  Chesnel  to 
the  duchess. 

"  Possibly,"  she  replied.  "  But  the  king  would 
undoubtedly,  and  with  pleasure.  Do  none  of  }7ou 
understand  what  is  going  on?  "  she  continued,  seeing 
the  astonishment  on  their  faces.  "Victurnien  has  been 
in  Paris ;  he  knows  how  things  are.  "We  were  more 
powerful  under  Napoleon.  Victurnien,  marry  Made- 
moiselle Duval,  or  any  woman  }tou  like  better ;  she 
will  be  Marquise  d'Esgrignon  just  as  much  as  I  am 
Duchesse  de  Maufrigneuse." 

"  All  is  lost,  even  honor,"  said  the  Chevalier,  with  a 
melancholy  gesture. 

"  Adieu,  Victurnien,"  said  the  duchess,  kissing  him 
on  the  forehead.  "4  We  shall  not  meet  again.  The 
best  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  live  on  your  estates ;  the 
air  of  Paris  does  not  agree  with  you." 

44  Diane  !  "  cried  the  young  count,  in  despair. 

44  Monsieur,  you  forget  yourself,"  said  the  duchess, 
coldly,  casting  aside  the  rule  of  man,  and  becoming 


180  The   G-allery  of  Antiquities. 

once  more  not  only  an  angel,  but  a  duchess,  and  not 
only  a  duchess,  but  Moliere's  Celimene. 

She  bowed  with  dignity  to  each  of  the  four  persons 
present,  and  obtained  from  the  Chevalier  the  last  tear 
of  admiration  which  he  shed  in  the  service  of  the  fair 
sex. 

"How  like  she  is  to  the  Princess  Goritza !  "  he 
exclaimed  in   a  low  voice. 

Diane  had  departed.  The  crack  of  the  postilion's 
whip  told  Victurnien  that  the  fine  romance  of  his  first 
passion  was  ended.  While  he  was  in  danger  the 
duchess  could  still  see  a  lover  in  the  count ;  but,  once 
saved,  she  despised  him  for  the  weak  being  that  he 
was. 

Six  months  later,  Camusot  was  appointed  a  substi- 
tute-judge in  Paris,  and  not  long  after  that,  examin- 
ing-judge.  Michu  became  procureur-du-roi.  The 
worthy  Blondet  was  made  Councillor  in  the  Royal 
court,  where  he  remained  long  enough  to  retire  with  a 
pension  to  his  pretty  little  house  and  his  precious  gar- 
den. Joseph  Blondet  obtained  his  father's  place,  but 
with  no  prospect  of  promotion ;  he  married  Made- 
moiselle Blandureau,  who  is  bored  to  death  among 
the  flowers,  like  a  carp  in  a  marble  basin.  Michu 
aud  Camusot  received  the  cross  of  the  Legion  of 
honor,  and  old  Blondet  received  that  of  an  officer.  As 
for  the  deputy-procwrewr,  Monsieur  Sauvager,  he  was 
removed  to  Corsica,  to  the  great  satisfaction  of  du 
Croisier,  who  had  certainly  no  desire  to  give  him  his 
niece. 

Du  Croisier,  instigated  by  du  Ronceret,  appealed  to 
the  Royal  court  against  the  verdict  of  non-lieu,  and  lost 


The  Gallery  of  Antiquities.  181 

his  case.  The  royalists,  on  their  side,  related  the 
shocking  plot  which  revenge  had  put  into  the  head  of 
the  "infamous  clu  Croisier."  A  duel  took  place  be- 
tween du  Croisier  and  Victurnien.  Chance  sustained 
the  former,  who  wounded  the  young  count  dangerously, 
and  maintained  his  charges.  The  struggle  between 
the  two  parties  was  much  envenomed  by  this  affair, 
which  the  liberals  brought  forward  on  all  occasions. 
Du  Croisier,  constantly  defeated  at  the  elections,  saw 
no  chance  of  marrying  his  niece  to  Victurnien,  especially 
after  this  duel. 

A  month  after  the  Royal  court  confirmed  the  verdict, 
Chesnel,  worn  out  by  the  dreadful  struggle,  in  which 
his  physical  and  mental  strength  was  undermined,  died 
in  his  triumph  like  a  faithful  old  dog  whose  belly  has 
been  ripped  by  the  tusk  of  a  wild  boar.  He  died 
as  happy  as  he  could  be  while  knowing  that  he  left  the 
family  almost  ruined,  and  the  young  man  in  poverty, 
dying  of  ennui  and  with  no  prospects  whatever  for 
the  future.  This  cruel  thought,  joined  to  his  physical 
weakness,  was  no  doubt  the  cause  of  the  old  man's 
death.  In  the  midst  of  this  ruin,  overwhelmed  with 
these  griefs,  he  received  one  great  consolation.  The  old 
marquis,  entreated  by  his  sister,  gave  back  to  him  his 
friendship.  That  personage,  so  grand  to  Chesnel's 
mind,  came  to  the  rue  du  Bercail  and  sat  down  beside 
the  bed  of  his  faithful  servant,  whose  sacrifices  were 
mostly  unknown  to  him.  Chesnel  raised  himself  in  his 
bed  and  repeated  the  song  of  Simeon.  The  marquis 
allowed  him  to  be  buried  in  the  chapel  of  the  chateau, 
his  body  cross-wise  in  the  same  grave  where  this  last 
of  the  true  d'Esgrignous  was  soon  to  lie  himself. 


182  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

Thus  died  one  of  the  latest  representatives  of  that 
grand  and  beautiful  thing,  domesticity, —  servitorship, 
—  a  word  which  is  often  taken  in  ill  part,  but  to  which 
we  give  here  its  true  signification,  making  it  express 
the  feudal  attachment  of  the  servitor  to  the  master. 
That  sentiment,  which  existed  no  longer  except  in  the 
depths  of  the  provinces  and  among  a  few  old  servants 
of  the  ancient  monarch}7,  was  equally  honorable  to  the 
nobility  who  inspired  such  affection  and  to  the  bour- 
geoisie who  conceived  it.  Such  noble  and  magnificent 
devotion  is  no  longer  possible  in  these  days.  The 
noble  houses  have  no  retainers ;  no  longer  is  there  a 
King  of  France,  or  an  hereditary  peerage,  or  entailed 
estates  to  carry  down  the  historical  houses  and  perpet- 
uate the  national  glories.  Chesnel  was,  therefore,  not 
only  one  of  the  unrecognized  great  men  of  private 
life,  he  was  also  a  great  Thing.  The  unbroken  contin- 
uance of  his  sacrifices  gives  to  his  life  a  grave  and 
solemn  character.  Does  it  not  far  surpass  the  heroism 
of  benevolence,  which  is,  after  all,  only  a  momentary 
effort?  Chesnel's  virtue  belongs  essentially  to  the 
classes  which  are  placed  between  the  plainness  of  the 
people  and  the  grandeurs  of  the  nobility ;  it  unites  the 
modest  virtues  of  the  bourgeoisie  with  the  higher 
thoughts  and  principles  of  the  noble,  lighting  both  by 
the  torch  of  a  solid  education. 

Victurnien,  unfavorably  viewed  at  court,  was  unable 
to  obtain  either  a  post  for  himself,  or  a  rich  girl  to 
marry.  The  king  steadily  refused  to  give  a  peerage 
to  the  d'Esgrignons,  —  the  only  favor  that  could  have 
lifted  Victurnien  out  of  the  slouch.  During  the  life  of 
his  father  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  marry  an  heiress 


The    Crallery  of  Antiquities.  183 

of  the  lower  classes ;  he  was  doomed  therefore  to  live 
meanly  in  the  famil}T  home,  with  nothing  left  but  pain- 
ful memories  of  Parisian  splendor  and  aristocratic 
love.  Sad  and  gloomy,  he  vegetated  between  his  des- 
pairing father,  who  attributed  to  mortal  disease  the 
depressed  condition  of  his  son,  and  his  aunt,  bowed 
down  with  grief  and  mortification.  Chesnel  was  no 
longer  there.  The  marquis  died  in  1830,  after  seeing 
King  Charles  X.  on  his  way  through  Nonancourt, 
whither  this  last  great  d'Esgrignon  went,  followed 
by  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  to  pay  his  duty  and  join 
the  meagre  retinue  of  the  vanquished  monarchy,  —  an 
act  of  courage  which  seems  simple  enough  to-day,  but 
which  the  state  of  public  feeling  at  the  time  made  truly 
sublime. 

"  The  Gauls  triumph!  "  were  the  last  words  uttered 
by  the  marquis. 

Du  Croisier's  revenge  was  then  complete ;  for  the 
new  Marquis  d'Esgrignon,  within  a  week  of  the  death 
of  his  old  father,  accepted  Mademoiselle  Duval  for  his 
wife,  with  a  dot  of  three  millions.  Du  Croisier  and  his 
wife  settled  the  inheritance  of  their  own  property  on 
their  niece  by  the  marriage-contract.  During  the  cere- 
mony of  the  marriage,  du  Croisier  remarked  that  the 
house  of  Esgrignon  was  the  most  honorable  of  the 
noble  families  of  France.  The  Marquis  d'Esgrignon, 
who  will  one  day  have  an  income  of  more  than  three 
hundred  thousand  francs  a  year,  may  be  seen  every 
winter  in  Paris,  where  he  leads  the  gay  life  of  a 
bachelor,  with  nothing  about  him  of  the  grand  seigneur 
but  his  indifference  to  his  wife,  of  whom  he  takes  no 
account. 


184  The    Gallery  of  Antiquities. 

"As  for  Mademoiselle  d'Esgrignon,"  said  Emile 
Blondet,  to  whom  we  owe  the  details  of  this  scene, 
"though  she  no  longer  resembles  the  celestial  being 
remembered  in  my  childhood,  she  is  assuredly,  at  sixty- 
seven  years  of  age,  the  most  sorrowful  and  the  most 
interesting  figure  in  the  Gallery  of  Antiquities,  where 
she  still  reigns  a  queen.  I  saw  her  the  last  time  I  went 
to  my  native  town  to  obtain  the  papers  necessary  for 
my  marriage.  When  my  father  heard  whom  I  was  to 
marry  he  was  stupefied,  and  did  not  recover  speech  till 
I  told  him  I  was  a  prefect.  '  You  were  born  so,'  he 
said.  While  strolling  through  the  town  I  met  Made- 
moiselle  Armande,  who  seemed  to  me  more  grand  than 
ever.  I  fancied  I  saw  Marias  on  the  ruins  of  Carthage. 
Has  she  not  survived  her  beliefs,  her  shattered  faiths? 
No  trust  remains  to  her  but  in  God.  Habitually  sad 
and  silent,  nothing  is  left  of  her  great  beauty  but  eyes 
of  supernatural  brilliancy.  When  I  saw  her  going  to 
mass,  her  prayer-book  in  her  hand,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  that  she  prays  to  God  to  take  her  from  this 
bitter  world." 


AN   OLD   MAID. 


AN     OLD     MAID. 


To    Monsieur    Eugene-Auguste-Georges-Louis  Midy 

DE  LA  GRENERAYE  SURVILLE,  ROYAL  ENGINEER  OF 
THE  PONTS  ET  ChAUSSE'eS. 

as  a  testimony  to  the  affection  of  his  brother-in-law, 

De  Balzac. 


I. 

ONE  OF  MANY  CHEVALIERS  DE  VALOIS. 

Most  persons  must  have  encountered,  in  certain 
provinces  in  France,  a  number  of  Chevaliers  cle  Valois. 
One  lived  in  Normandy,  another  at  Bourges,  a  third 
(with  whom  we  have  here  to  do)  nourished  in  Alencon, 
and  doubtless  the  South  possesses  others.  The  number 
of  the  Valesian  tribe  is,  however,  of  no  consequence  to 
the  present  tale.  All  these  chevaliers,  among  whom 
were  doubtless  some  who  were  Valois  as  Louis  XIV. 
was  Bourbon,  knew  so  little  of  one  another  that  it  was 
not  advisable  to  speak  to  one  about  the  others.  They 
were  all  willing  to  leave  the  Bourbons  in  tranquil  pos- 
session of  the  throne  of  France  ;  for  it  was  too  plainly 
established  that  Henri  IV.  became  king  for  want  of  a 


188  An   Old  Maid. 

male  heir  in  the  first  Orleans  branch  called  the  Valois. 
If  there  are  any  Valois,  they  descend  from  Charles  de 
Valois,  Due  d'Angouleme,  son  of  Charles  IX.  and 
Marie  Touchet,  the  male  line  from  whom  ended,  until 
proof  to  the  contrary  be  produced,  in  the  person  of 
the  Abbe  de  Rothelin.  The  Valois-Saint-Remy,  who 
descended  from  Henri  II.,  also  came  to  an  end  in  the 
famous  Lamothe- Valois  implicated  in  the  affair  of  the 
Diamond  Necklace. 

Each  of  these  many  chevaliers,  if  we  may  believe 
reports,  was,  like  the  Chevalier  of  Alencon,  an  old 
gentleman,  tall,  thin,  withered,  and  moneyless.  He  of 
Bourges  had  emigrated  ;  he  of  Touraine  hid  himself ;  he 
of  Alencon  fought  in  La  Vendee  and  clwuanized  some- 
what. The  youth  of  the  latter  was  spent  in  Paris, 
where  the  Revolution  overtook  him  when  thirty  years 
of  age  in  the  midst  of  his  conquests  and  gallantries. 

The  Chevalier  de  Valois  of  Alencon  was  accepted  by 
the  highest  aristocracy  of  the  province  as  a  genuine 
Valois ;  and  he  'distinguished  himself,  like  the  rest  of 
his  homonyms,  by  excellent  manners,  which  proved 
him  a  man  of  society.  He  dined  out  every  day,  and 
played  cards  every  evening.  He  was  thought  witty, 
thanks  to  his  foible  for  relating  a  quantity  of  anec- 
dotes on  the  reign  of  Louis  XV.  and  the  beginnings 
of  the  Revolution.  When  these  tales  were  heard  for 
the  first  time,  they  were  held  to  be  well  narrated.  He 
had,  moreover,  the  great  merit  of  not  repeating  his 
personal  bons  mots  and  of  never  speaking  of  his  love- 
affairs,  though  his  smiles  and  his  airs  and  graces  were 
delightfully  indiscreet.  The  worthy  gentleman  used 
his  privilege  as  a  Voltairean  noble  to  stay  away  from 


An   Old  Maid.  189 

• 

mass ;  and  great  indulgence  was  shown  to  his  irreli- 
gion  because  of  his  devotion  to  the  royal  cause.  One 
of  his  particular  graces  was  the  air  and  manner  (imi- 
tated, no  doubt,  from  Mole)  with  which  he  took  snuff 
from  a  gold  box  adorned  with  the  portrait  of  the  Prin- 
cess Goritza,  —  a  charming  Hungarian,  celebrated  for 
her  beauty  in  the  last  years  of  the  reign  of  Louis  XV. 
Having  been  attached  during  his  youth  to  that  illus- 
trious stranger,  he  still  mentioned  her  with  emotion. 
For  her  sake  he  had  fought  a  duel  with  Monsieur  de 
Lauzun. 

The  chevalier,  now  fifty-eight  years  of  age,  owned 
to  only  fifty ;  and  he  might  well  allow  himself  that 
innocent  deception,  for,  among  the  other  advantages 
granted  to  fair  thin  persons,  he  managed  to  preserve 
the  still  youthful  figure  which  saves  men  as  well  as 
women  from  an  appearance  of  old  age.  Yes,  remem- 
ber this :  all  of  life,  or  rather  all  the  elegance  that 
expresses  life,  is  in  the  figure.  Among  the  chevalier's 
other  possessions  must  be  counted  an  enormous  nose 
with  which  nature  had  endowed  him.  This  nose  vig- 
orously divided  a  pale  face  into  two  sections  which 
seemed  to  have  no  knowledge  of  each  other,  for 
one  side  would  redden  under  the  process  of  digestion, 
while  the  other  continued  white.  This  fact  is  worthy 
of  remark  at  a  period  when  physiology  is  so  busy  with 
the  human  heart.  The  incandescence,  so  to  call  it, 
was  on  the  left  side.  Though  his  long  slim  legs,  sup- 
porting a  lank  body,  and  his  pallid  skin,  were  not  indi- 
cative of  health,  Monsieur  de  Valois  ate  like  an  ogre 
and  declared  he  had  a  malady  called  in  the  provinces 
"  hot  liver,"  perhaps  to  excuse  his  monstrous  appetite. 


190  An  Old  Maid. 

The  circumstance  of  bis  singular  flush  confirmed  this 
declaration ;  but  in  a  region  where  repasts  are  devel- 
oped on  the  line  of  thirty  or  forty  dishes  and  last  four 
hours,  the  chevalier's  stomach  Would  seem  to  have  been 
a  blessing  bestowed  by  Providence  on  the  good  town 
of  Alencon.  According  to  certain  doctors,  heat  on  the 
left  side  denotes  a  prodigal  heart.  The  chevalier's 
gallantries  confirmed  this  scientific  assertion,  the  re- 
sponsibility for  which  does  not  rest,  fortunately,  on 
the  historian. 

In  spite  of  these  symptoms,  Monsieur  de  Valois'  con- 
stitution was  vigorous,  consequently  long-lived.  If 
his  liver  "heated,"  to  use  an  old-fashioned  word, 
his  heart  was  not  less  inflammable.  His  face  was 
wrinkled  and  his  hair  silvered ;  but  an  intelligent 
observer  would  have  recognized  at  once  the  stigmata 
of  passion  and  the  furrows  of  pleasure  which  appeared 
in  the  crow's-feet  and  the  marches-du-palais,  so  prized 
at  the  court  of  Cythera.  Everything  about  this  dainty 
chevalier  bespoke  the  "  ladies'  man."  He  was  so 
minute  in  his  ablutions  that  his  cheeks  were  a  pleasure 
to  look  upon ;  they  seemed  to  have  been  laved  in  some 
miraculous  water.  The  part  of  his  skull  which  his 
hair  refused  to  cover  shone  like  ivory.  His  eyebrows, 
like  his  hair,  affected  youth  by  the  care  and  regularity 
with  which  they  were  combed.  His  skin,  already 
white,  seemed  to  have  been  extra-whitened  by  some 
secret  compound.  Without  using  perfumes,  the  cheva- 
lier exhaled  a  certain  fragrance  of  youth,  that  re- 
freshed the  atmosphere.  His  hands,  which  were  those 
of  a  gentleman,  and  were  cared  for  like  the  hands  of  a 
pretty  woman,  attracted  the  eye   to  their  rosy,  well- 


An   Old  Maid.  191 

shaped  nails.  In  short,  had  it  not  been  for  his  magis- 
terial and  stupendous  nose,  the  chevalier  might  have 
been  thought  a  trifle  too  dainty. 

We  must  he*re  compel  ourselves  to  spoil  this  portrait 
by  the  avowal  of  a  littleness.  The  chevalier  put 
cotton  in  his  ears,  and  wore,  appended  to  them, 
two  little  ear-rings  representing  negroes'  heads  in  dia- 
monds, of  admirable  workmanship.  He  clung  to 
these  singular  appendages,  explaining  that  since  his 
ears  had  been  bored  he  had  ceased  to  have  headaches 
(he  had  had  headaches).  AVe  do  not  present  the 
chevalier  as  an  accomplished  man ;  but  surely  we  can 
pardon,  in  an  old  celibate  whose  heart  sends  so  much 
blood  to  his  left  cheek,  these  adorable  absurdities, 
founded,  perhaps,  on  some  sublime  secret  history. 

Besides,  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  redeemed  those 
negroes'  heads  by  so  many  other  graces  that  society 
felt  itself  sufficiently  compensated.  He  really  took 
such  immense  trouble  to  conceal  his  age  and  give 
pleasure  to  his  friends.  In  the  first  place,  we  must  call 
attention  to  the  extreme  care  he  gave  to  his  linen,  the 
only  distinction  that  well-bred  men  can  nowadays 
exhibit  in  their  clothes.  The  linen  of  the  chevalier 
was  invariably  of  a  fineness  and  whiteness  that  were 
truly  aristocratic.  As  for  his  coat,  though  remarkable 
for  its  cleanliness,  it  was  always  half  worn-out,  but 
without  spots  or  creases.  The  preservation  of  that 
garment  was  something  marvellous  to  those  who 
noticed  the  chevalier's  high-bred  indifference  to  its 
shabbiness.  He  did  not  go  so  far  as  to  scrape  the 
seams  with  glass,  —  a  refinement  invented  by  the  Prince 
of   Wales ;    but    he    did    practise    the    rudiments   of 


192  An   Old  Maid. 

English  elegance  with  a  personal  satisfaction  little 
understood  by  the  people  of  Alen^on.  The  world 
owes  a  great  deal  to  persons  who  take  such  pains  to 
please  it.  In  this  there  is  certainly  some  accomplish- 
ment of  that  most  difficult  precept  of  the  Gospel  about 
rendering  good  for  evil.  This  freshness  of  ablution 
and  all  the  other  little  cares  harmonized  charmingly 
with  the  blue  eyes,  the  ivory  teeth,  and  the  blond 
person  of  the  old  chevalier. 

The  only  blemish  was  that  this  retired  Adonis  had 
nothing  manly  about  him ;  he  seemed  to  be  employing 
this  toilet  varnish  to  hide  the  ruins  occasioned  by  the 
military  service  of  gallantry  only.  But  we  must 
hasten  to  add  that  his  voice  produced  what  might  be 
called  an  antithesis  to  his  blond  delicacy.  Unless  you 
adopted  the  opinion  of  certain  observers  of  the  human 
heart,  and  thought  that  the  chevalier  had  the  voice  of 
his  nose,  his  organ  of  speech  would  have  amazed  you  by 
its  full  and  redundant  sound.  Without  possessing  the 
volume  of  colossal  bass  voices,  the  tone  of  it  was  pleas- 
ing from  a  slightly  muffled  quality  like  that  of  an  Eng- 
lish bugle,  which  is  firm  and  sweet,  strong  but  velvety. 

The  chevalier  had  repudiated  the  ridiculous  costume 
still  preserved  by  certain  monarchical  old  men ;  he  had 
frankly  modernized  himself.  He  was  always  seen  in  a 
maroon-colored  coat  with  gilt  buttons,  half- tight  breeches 
of  poult-de-soie  with  gold  buckles,  a  white  waistcoat 
without  embroidery,  and  a  tight  cravat  showing  no 
shirt-collar,  —  a  last  vestige  of  the  old  French  costume 
which  he  did  not  renounce,  perhaps,  because  it  enabled 
him  to  show  a  neck  like  that  of  the  sleekest  abbe. 
His  shoes  were  noticeable  for  their  square  buckles,  a 


An  Old  Maid.  193 

style  of  which  the  present  generation  has  no  knowl- 
edge ;  these  buckles  were  fastened  to  a  square  of 
polished  black  leather.  The  chevalier  allowed  two 
watch-chains  to  hang  parallel  to  each  other  from  each 
of  his  waistcoat  pockets,  —  another  vestige  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  which  the  Incroyables  had  not  dis- 
dained to  use  under  the  Directory.  This  transition 
costume,  uniting  as  it  did  two  centuries,  was  worn  by 
the  chevalier  with  the  high-bred  grace  of  an  old  French 
marquis,  the  secret  of  which  is  lost  to  France  since  the 
day  when  Fleury,  Mole's  last  pupil,  vanished. 

The  private  life  of  this  old  bachelor  was  apparently 
open  to  all  eyes,  though  in  fact  it  was  quite  mysterious. 
He  lived  in  a  lodging  that  was  modest,  to  say  the  best  of 
it,  in  the  rue  du  Cours,  on  the  second  floor  of  a  house 
belonging  to  Madame  Lardot,  the  best'  and  busiest 
washerwoman  in  the  town.  This  circumstance  will 
explain  the  excessive  nicety  of  his  linen.  Ill-luck 
would  have  it  that  the  day  came  when  Alencon  was 
guilty  of  believing  that  the  chevalier  had  not  always 
comported  himself  as  a  gentleman  should,  and  that  in 
fact  he  was  secretly  married  in  his  old  age  to  a  certain 
Cesarine,  — the  mother  of  a  child  which  had  had  the 
impertinence  to  come  into  the  wrorld  without  being 
called  for. 

"He  had  given  his  hand,"  as  a  certain  Monsieur  du 
Bousquier  remarked,  "  to  the  person  who  had  long  had 
him  under  irons." 

This  horrible  calumny  embittered  the  last  days  of 
the  dainty  chevalier  all  the  more  because,  as  the  pres- 
ent Scene  will  show,  he  had  lost  a  hope  long  cherished 
to  which  he  had  made  many  sacrifices. 

13 


194  An  Old  Maid. 

Madame  Larclot  leased  to  the  chevalier  two  rooms  on 
the  second  floor  of  her  house,  for  the  modest  sum  of 
one  hundred  francs  a  year.  The  worthy  gentleman 
dined  out  every  day,  returning  only  in  time  to  go  to 
bed.  His  sole  expense  therefore  was  for  breakfast, 
invariably  composed  of  a  cup  of  chocolate,  with  bread 
and  butter  and  fruits  in  their  season.  He  made  no  fire 
except  in  the  coldest  winter,  and  then  only  enough  to 
get  up  by.  Between  eleven  and  four  o'clock  he  walked 
about,  went  to  read  the  papers,  and  paid  visits.  From 
the  time  of  his  settling  in  Alencon  he  had  nobly  ad- 
mitted his  poverty,  saying  that  his  whole  fortune  con- 
sisted in  an  annuity  of  six  hundred  francs  a  year,  the 
sole  remains  of  his  former  opulence,  — a  propert}'  which 
obliged  him  to  see  his  man  of  business  (who  held  the 
annuity  papers)  quarterly.  In  truth,  one  of  the  Alencon 
bankers  paid  him  every  three  months  one  hundred  and 
fifty  francs,  sent  down  by  Monsieur  Bordin  of  Paris, 
the  last  of  the  procureurs  du  Chatelet.  Every  one 
knew  these  details  because  the  chevalier  exacted  the 
utmost  secrecy  from  the  persons  to  whom  he  first 
confided  them. 

Monsieur  de  Valois  gathered  the  fruit  of  his  misfor- 
tunes. His  place  at  table  was  laid  in  all  the  most  dis- 
tinguished houses  in  Alencon,  and  he  was  bidden  to  all 
soirees.  His  talents  as  a  card-player,  a  narrator,  an 
amiable  man  of  the  highest  breeding,  were  so  well 
known  and  appreciated  that  parties  would  have  seemed 
a  failure  if  the  dainty  connoisseur  was  absent.  Masters 
of  houses  and  their  wives  felt  the  need  of  his  approving 
grimace.  When  a  young  woman  heard  the  chevalier 
say  at  a  ball,   "You  are  delightfull}7  well-dressed!" 


An   Old  Maid.  195 

she  was  more  pleased  at  such  praise  than  she  would 
have  been  at  mortifying  a  rival.  Monsieur  de  Valois 
was  the  only  man  who  could  perfectly  pronounce  cer- 
tain phrases  of  the  olden  time.  The  words,  "my 
heart,"  "my  jewel,"  "my  little  pet,"  "my  queen," 
and  the  amorous  diminutives  of  1770,  had  a  grace  that 
was  quite  irresistible  when  they  came  from  his  lips. 
In  short,  the  chevalier  had  the  privilege  of  superlatives. 
His  compliments,  of  which  he  was  stingy,  won  the  good 
graces  of  all  the  old  women  ;  he  made  himself  agreeable 
to  every  one,  even  to  the  officials  of  the  government, 
from  whom  he  wanted  nothing.  His  behavior  at  cards 
had  a  lofty  distinction  which  everybody  noticed  :  he 
never  complained ;  he  praised  his  adversaries  when 
they  lost ;  he  did  not  rebuke  or  teach  his  partners  by 
showing  them  how  they  ought  to  have  played.  When, 
in  the  course  of  a  deal,  those  sickening  dissertations  on 
the  game  would  take  place,  the  chevalier  invariably 
drew  out  his  snuff-box  with  a  gesture  that  was  worthy 
of  Mole,  looked  at  the  Princess  Goritza,  raised  the 
cover  with  dignity,  shook,  sifted,  massed  the  snuff,  and 
gathered  his  pinch,  so  that  by  the  time  the  cards  were 
dealt  he  had  decorated  both  nostrils  and  replaced  the 
princess  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  —  always  on  his  left 
side.  A  gentleman  of  the  good  century  (in  distinction 
from  the  grand  century)  could  alone  have  invented  that 
compromise  between  contemptuous  silence  and  a  sar- 
casm which  might  not  have  been  understood.  He 
accepted  poor  players  and  knew  how  to  make  the  best 
of  them.  His  delightful  equability  of  temper  made 
many  persons  say,  — 

"  I  do  admire  the  Chevalier  de  Valois !  " 


196  An   Old  Maid. 

His  conversation,  his  manners,  seemed  blond,  like  his 
person.  He  endeavored  to  shock  neither  man  nor 
woman.  Indulgent  to  defects  both  physical  and  men- 
tal, he  listened  patiently  (by  the  help  of  the  Princess 
Goritza)  to  the  many  dull  people  who  related  to  him 
the  petty  miseries  of  provincial  life,  — an  egg  ill-boiled 
for  breakfast,  coffee  with  feathered  cream,  burlesque 
details  about  health,  disturbed  sleep,  dreams,  visits. 
The  chevalier  could  call  up  a  languishing  look,  he  could 
take  on  a  classic  attitude  to  feign  compassion,  which 
made  him  a  most  valuable  listener ;  he  could  put  in  an 
"Ah!"  and  a  "Bah!"  and  a  "What  did  you  do?" 
with  charming  appropriateness.  He  died  without  any 
one  suspecting  him  of  even  an  allusion  to  the  tender 
passages  of  his  romance  with  the  Princess  Goritza. 
Has  any  one  ever  reflected  on  the  service  a  dead  senti- 
ment can  do  to  society ;  how  love  may  become  both 
social  and  useful  ?  This  will  serve  to  explain  why,  in 
spite  of  his  constant  winnings  at  play  (he  never  left  a 
salon  without  carrying  off  with  him  about  six  francs), 
the  old  chevalier  remained  the  spoilt  darling  of  the 
town.  His  losses  —  which,  by  the  bye,  he  always  pro- 
claimed —  were  very  rare. 

All  who  know  him  declare  that  they  have  never  met, 
not  even  in  the  Egyptian  museum  at  Turin,  so  agree- 
able a  mummy.  In  no  country  in  the  world  did  para- 
sitism ever  take  on  so  pleasant  a  form.  Never  did 
selfishness  of  a  most  concentrated  kind  appear  less 
forth-putting,  less  offensive,  than  in  this  old  gentle- 
man ;  it  stood  him  in  place  of  devoted  friendship.  If 
some  one  asked  Monsieur  de  Valois  to  do  him  a  little 
service  which  might  have  discommoded  him,  that  some 


An  Old  Maid.  197 

one  did  not  part  from  the  worthy  chevalier  without 
being  truly  enchanted  with  him,  and  quite  convinced 
that  he  either  could  not  do  the  service  demanded,  or 
that  he  should  injure  the  affair  if  lie  meddled  in  it. 

To  explain  the  problematic  existence  of  the  cheva- 
lier,   the    historian,    whom  Truth,  that   cruel   wanton, 
grasps  by  the  throat,  is  compelled  to  say  that  after  the 
"glorious  "  sad  days  of  July,  Alencon  discovered  that 
the  chevalier's  nightly  winnings  amounted  to  about  one 
hundred  and  fifty  francs  every  three  months;   and  that 
the  clever  old  nobleman  had  had  the  pluck  to  send  to 
himself  his  annuity  in  order  not  to  appear  in  the  eyes 
of  a  community,  which  loves  the  main  chance,  to  be 
entirely  without  resources.     Many  of  his  friends  (he 
was  by  that  time  dead,  you  will  please  remark)  have 
contested  mordicus  this  curious  fact,  declaring  it  to  be 
a  fable,  and   upholding  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  as  a 
respectable  and  worthy  gentleman  whom  the   liberals 
calumniated       Luckily   for  shrewd  players,  there   are 
people    to   be    found    among   the   spectators  who  will 
always  sustain  them.     Ashamed  of  having  to  defend  a 
piece  of  wrong-doing,  they  stoutly  deny  it.      Do  not 
accuse  them  of  wilful   infatuation ;    such  men  have  a 
sense  of  their  dignity ;    governments  set  them  the  ex- 
ample of  a  virtue  which  consists  in  burying  their  dead 
without  chanting;  the  Miserere  of  their  defeats.     If  the 
chevalier  did  allow  himself  this  bit  of  shrewd  practice, 
—  which,  by  the  bye,  would  have   won  him  the  regard 
of  the  Chevalier  de  Gramont,  a  smile  from  the  Baron 
de  Foeneste,  a  shake  of  the  hand  from  the  Marquis  de 
Moncade,  — ■  was  he  any  the  less  that  amiable   guest, 
that  witty  talker,  that  imperturbable  card-player,  that 


198  An  Old  Maid. 

famous  teller  of  anecdotes,  in  whom  all  AlenQon  took 
delight?  Besides,  in  what  way  was  this  action,  which 
is  certainly  within  the  rights  of  a  man's  own  will,  — in 
what  way  was  it  contrary  to  the  ethics  of  a  gentleman? 
When  so  many  persons  are  forced  to  pay  annuities  to 
others,  what  more  natural  than  to  pay  one  to  his  own 
best  friend  ?     But  La'ius  is  dead  — 

To  return  to  the  period  of  which  we  are  writing : 
after  about  fifteen  }7ears  of  this  way  of  life  the  cheva- 
lier had  amassed  ten  thousand  and  some  odd  hundred 
francs.  On  the  return  of  the  Bourbons,  one  of  his  old 
friends,  the  Marquis  de  Pombreton,  formerly  lieuten- 
ant in  the  Black  mousquetaires,  returned  to  him  —  so 
he  said  —  twelve  hundred  pistoles  which  he  had  lent 
to  the  marquis  for  the  purpose  of  emigrating.  This 
event  made  a  sensation ;  it  was  used  later  to  refute 
the  sarcasms  of  the  "  Constitutionnel,"  on  the  method 
employed  by  some  emigres  in  paying  their  debts. 
When  this  noble  act  of  the  Marquis  de  Pombreton  was 
lauded  before  the  chevalier,  the  good  man  reddened 
even  to  his  right  cheek.  Every  one  rejoiced  frankly 
at  this  windfall  for  Monsieur  de  Valois,  w7ho  went 
about  consulting  moneyed  people  as  to  the  safest 
manner  of  investing  this  fragment  of  his  past  opulence. 
Confiding  in  the  future  of  the  Restoration,  he  finally 
placed  his  money  on  the  Grand-Livre  at  the  moment 
wdien  the  Funds  were  at  fifty-six  francs  and  twenty- 
five  centimes.  Messieurs  de  Lenoncourt,  de  Navar- 
reins,  de  Verneuil,  de  Fontaine,  and  La  Billardiere,  to 
whom  he  was  known,  he  said,  obtained  for  him,  from 
the  king's  privy  purse,  a  pension  of  three  hundred 
francs,   and  sent  him,  moreover,   the   cross  of   Saint- 


An    Old  Maid.  199 

Louis.  Never  was  it  known  positively  by  what  means 
the  old  chevalier  obtained  these  two  solemn  consecra- 
tions of  his  title  and  merits.  But  one  thing  is  certain  ; 
the  cross  of  Saint-Louis  authorized  him  to  take  the 
rank  of  retired  colonel  in  view  of  his  service  in  the 
Catholic  armies  of  the  West. 

Besides  his  fiction  of  an  annuity,  about  which  no  one 
at  the  present  time  knew  anything,  the  chevalier  really 
had,  therefore,  a  bond  fide  income  of  a  thousand  francs. 
But  in  spite  of  this  bettering  of  his  circumstances,  he 
made  no  change  in  his  life,  manners,  or  appearance, 
except  that  the  red  ribbon  made  a  fine  effect  on  his 
maroon-colored  coat,  and  completed,  so  to  speak,  the 
physiognomy  of  a  gentleman.  After  1802,  the  cheva- 
lier sealed  his  letters  with  a  very  old  seal,  ill-engraved 
to  be  sure,  by  which  the  Casterans,  the  d'Esgrignons, 
the  Troisvilles  were  enabled  to  see  that  he  bore : 
Party  of  France,  two  cottises  gemelled  gules,  and 
gules,  five  mascles  or,  placed  end  to  end  ;  on  a  chief 
sable,  a  cross  argent.  For  crest,  a  knight's  helmet. 
For  motto :  Valeo.  Bearing  such  noble  arms,  the  so- 
called  bastard  of  the  Yalois  had  the  ri°;ht  to  «;et  into 
all  the  royal  carriages  of  the  world. 

Many  persons  envied  the  quiet  existence  of  this  old 
bachelor,  spent  on  whist,  boston,  backgammon,  re- 
versi,  and  piquet,  all  well  played,  on  dinners  well 
digested,  snuff  gracefully  inhaled,  and  tranquil  walks 
about  the  town.  Nearly  all  Alencon  believed  this  life 
to  be  exempt  from  ambitions  and  serious  interests  ;  but 
no  man  has  a  life  as  simple  as  envious  neighbors  attrib- 
ute to  him.  You  will  find  in  the  most  out-of-the  way 
villages  human  mollnsks,  creatures  apparently  dead,  who 


200  An   Old  Maid. 

have  passions  for  lepidoptera  or  for  conchology,  let  us 
say,  —  beings  "who  will  give  themselves  infinite  pains 
about  moths,  butterflies,  or  the  concha  Veneris.  Not 
only  did  the  chevalier  have  his  own  particular  shells, 
but  he  cherished  an  ambitious  desire  which  he  pur- 
sued w7ith  a  craft  so  profound  as  to  be  worthy  of 
Sixtus  the  Fifth  :  he  wanted  to  marry  a  certain  rich  old 
maid,  with  the  intention,  no  doubt,  of  making  her 
wealth  a  stepping-stone  by  which  to  reach  the  more 
elevated  regions  of  the  court.  There,  then,  lay  the 
secret  of  his  royal  bearing  and  of  his  residence  in 
Ale  neon. 


An  Old  Maid.  201 


II. 


SUSANNAH    AND    THE    ELDERS. 

On  a  Wednesday  morning,  early,  toward  the  middle 
of  spring,  in  the  year  16,  —  such  was  his  mode  of  reck- 
oning, —  at  the  moment  when  the  chevalier  was  putting 
on  his  old  green-flowered  damask  dressing-gown,  he 
heard,  despite  the  cotton  in  his  ears,  the  light  step  of 
a  young  girl  who  was  running  up  the  stairway.  Pres- 
ently three  taps  were  discreetly  struck  upon  the  door ; 
then,  without  waiting  for  any  response,  a  handsome 
girl  slipped  like  an  eel  into  the  room  occupied  by  the 
old  bachelor. 

"Ah!  is  it  }^ou,  Suzanne?"  said  the  Chevalier  de 
Yalois,  without  discontinuing  his  occupation,  which 
was  that  of  stropping  his  razor.  "What  have  you 
come  for,  my  dear  little  jewel  of  mischief?  " 

"  I  have  come  to  tell  you  something  which  may 
perhaps  give  you  as  much  pleasure  as  pain." 

"  Is  it  anything  about  Cesarine?  " 

"  Cesarine  !  much  I  care  about  your  Cesarine  !  "  she 
said  with  a  saucy  air,  half  serious,  half  indifferent. 

This  charming  Suzanne,  whose  present  comical  per- 
formance was  to  exercise  a  great  influence  on  the  prin- 
cipal personages  of  our  history,  was  a  work-girl  at 
Madame  Lardot's.  One  word  here  on  the  topography 
of  the  house.     The  wash-rooms  occupied  the  whole  of 


202  An   Old  Maid. 

the  ground-floor.  The  little  court}7ard  was  used  to  hang 
out  on  wire  cords  embroidered  handkerchiefs,  col- 
larets, capes,  cuffs,  frilled  shirts,  cravats,  laces,  em- 
broidered dresses,  —  in  short,  all  the  fine  linen  of  the 
best  families  of  the  town.  The  chevalier  assumed  to 
know  from  the  number  of  her  capes  in  the  wash  how  the 
love-affairs  of  the  wife  of  the  prefect  were  going  on. 
Though  he  guessed  much  from  observations  of  this 
kind,  the  chevalier  was  discretion  itself ;  he  was  never 
betrayed  into  an  epigram  (he  had  plenty  of  wit)  which 
might  have  closed  to  him  an  agreeable  salon.  You 
are  therefore  to  consider  Monsieur  de  Valois  as  a  man 
of  superior  manners,  whose  talents,  like  those  of  many 
others,  were  lost  in  a  narrow  sphere.  Only  —  for, 
after  all,  he  was  a  man  —  he  permitted  himself  at  times 
certain  penetrating  glances  which  could  make  some 
women  tremble ;  although  they  all  loved  him  heartily 
as  soon  as  they  discovered  the  depth  of  his  discre- 
tion and  the  sympathy  that  he  felt  for  their  little 
weaknesses. 

The  head  woman,  Madame  Lardot's  factotum,  an 
old  maid  of  forty-six,  hideous  to  behold,  lived-  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  passage  to  the  chevalier.  Above 
them  were  the  attics  where  the  linen  was  dried  in 
winter.  Each  apartment  had  two  rooms,  —  one  lighted 
from  the  street,  the  other  from  the  courtyard.  Beneath 
the  chevalier's  room  lived  a  paralytic,  Madame  Lar- 
dot's grandfather,  an  old  buccaneer  named  Greviu, 
who  had  served  under  Admiral  Simeuse  in  India,  and 
was  now  stone-deaf.  As  for  Madame  Lardot,  who 
occupied  the  other  lodging  on  the  first  floor,  she  had  so 
great  a  weakness  for   persons  of  condition  that   she 


An   Old  Maid.  203 

may  well  have  been  thought  blind  to  the  ways  of  the 
chevalier.  To  her,  Monsieur  cle  Valois  was  a  despotic 
monarch  who  did  right  in  all  things.  Had  any  of  her 
workwomen  been  guilty  of  a  happiness  attributed  to 
the  chevalier  she  would  have  said,  "  He  is  so  lov- 
able !  "  Thus,  though  the  house  was  of  glass,  like  all 
provincial  houses,  it  was  discreet  as  a  robber's  cave. 

A  born  confidant  to  all  the  little  intrigues  of  the 
work-rooms,  the  chevalier  never  passed  the  door,  which 
usually  stood  open,  without  giving  something  to  his 
little  ducks, — chocolate,  bonbons,  ribbons,  laces,  gilt 
crosses,  and  such  like- trifles  adored  by  grisettes ;  con- 
sequently, the  kind  old  gentleman  was  adored  in 
return.  Women  have  an  instinct  which  enables  them 
to  divine  the  men  who  love  them,  who  like  to  be  near 
them,  and  exact  no  payment  for  gallantries.  In  this 
respect  women  have  the  instinct  of  dogs,  who  in  a 
mixed  company  will  go  straight  to  the  man  to  whom 
animals  are  sacred. 

The  poor  Chevalier  de  Yalois  retained  from  his 
former  life  the  need  of  bestowing  gallant  protection,  a 
quality  Of  the  seigneurs  of  other  days.  Faithful  to 
the  system  of  the  "  petite  maison,"  he  liked  to  enrich 
women,  - —  the  only  beings  who  know  how  to  receive,  be- 
cause they  can  always  return.  But  the  poor  chevalier 
could  no  longer  ruin  himself  for  a  mistress.  Instead  of 
the  choicest  bonbons  wrapped  in  bank-bills,  he  gallantly 
presented  paper-bags  full  of  toffee.  Let  us  say  to  the 
glory  of  Alencon  that  the  toffee  was  accepted  with 
more  joy  than  la  Duthe  ever  showed  at  a  gilt  service  or 
a  fine  equipage  offered  by  the  Comte  d'Artois.  All 
these  grisettes  fully  understood  the  fallen  majesty  of 


204  An    Old  Maid. 

the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  and  they  kept  their  private 
familiarities  with  him  a  profound  secret  for  his  sake. 
If  they  were  questioned  about  him  in  certaiu  houses 
when  they  carried  home  the  linen,  they  alwa}Ts  spoke 
respectfully  of  the  chevalier,  and  made  him  out  older 
than  he  really  was ;  they  talked  of  him  as  a  most  re- 
spectable monsieur,  whose  life  was  a  flower  of  sanctity  ; 
but  once  in  their  own  regions  they  perched  on  his 
shoulders  like  so  many  parrots.  He  liked  to  be  told 
the  secrets  which  washerwomen  discover  in  the  bosom 
of  households,  and  day  after  day  these  girls  would 
tell  him  the  cancans  which  were  going  the  round  of 
Alencon.  He  called  them  his  "  petticoat  gazettes," 
his  "talking  feuilletons."  Never  did  Monsieur  de 
Sartines  have  spies  more  intelligent  and  less  expen- 
sive, or  minions  who  showed  more  honor  while  display- 
ing their  rascality  of  mind.  So  it  may  be  said  that  in 
the  mornings,  while  breakfasting,  the  chevalier  usually 
amused  himself  as  much  as  the  saints  in  heaven. 

Suzanne  was  one  of  his  favorites,  a  clever,  ambi- 
tious girl,  made  of  the  stuff  of  a  Sophie  Arnould,  and 
handsome  withal,  as  the  handsomest  courtesan  invited 
by  Titian  to  pose  on  black  velvet  for  a  model  of 
Venus ;  although  her  face,  fine  about  the  eyes  and 
forehead,  degenerated,  lower  down,  into  commonness 
of  outline.  Hers  was  a  Norman  beauty,  fresh,  high- 
colored,  redundant,  the  flesh  of  Rubens  covering  the 
muscles  of  the  Farnese  Hercules,  and  not  the  slender 
articulations  of  the  Venus  de'  Medici,  Apollo's  grace- 
ful consort. 

"  Well,  my  child,  tell  me  your  great  or  your  little 
adventure,  whatever  it  is." 


An    Old  Maid,  205 

The  particular  point  about  the  chevalier  which 
would  have  made  him  noticeable  from  Paris  to  Pekiu, 
was  the  gentle  paternity  of  his  manner  to  grisettes. 
They  reminded  him  of  the  illustrious  operatic  queens 
of  his  early  days,  whose  celebrity  was  European  during 
a  good  third  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It  is  certain 
that  the  old  gentleman,  who  had  lived  in  days  gone  by 
with  that  feminine  nation  now  as  much  forgotten  as 
many  other  great  things,  — like  the  Jesuits,  the  Bucca- 
neers, the  Abbes,  and  the  Farmers-General,  —  had  ac- 
quired an  irresistible  good-humor,  a  kindly  ease,  a 
laisser-aller  devoid  of  egotism,  the  self-effacement  of 
Jupiter  with  Alcmene,  of  the  king  intending  to  be 
duped,  who  casts  his  thunderbolts  to  the  devil,  wants  his 
Olympus  full  of  follies,  little  suppers,  feminine  profu- 
sions —  but  with  Juno  out  of  the  way,  be  it  understood. 

In  spite  of  his  old  green  damask  dressing-gown  and 
the  bareness  of  the  room  in  which  he  sat,  where  the 
floor  was  covered  with  a  shabby  tapestry  in  .place  of 
carpet,  and  the  walls  were  hung  with  tavern-paper  pre- 
senting the  profiles  of  Louis  XVI.  and  members  of  his 
family,  traced  among  the  branches  of  a  weeping  willow 
with  other  sentimentalities  invented  by  royalism  dur- 
ing the  Terror,  —  in  spite  of  his  ruins,  the  chevalier, 
trimming  his  beard  before  a  shabby  old  toilet-table, 
draped  with  trumpery  lace,  exhaled  an  essence  of  the 
eighteenth  century.  All  the  libertine  graces  of  his 
youth  reappeared  ;  he  seemed  to  have  the  wealth  of 
three  hundred  thousand  francs  of  debt,  while  his  vis-a- 
vis waited  before  the  door.  He  was  grand,  —  like  Ber- 
thier  on  the  retreat  from  Moscow,  issuing  orders  to  an 
army  that  existed  no  longer. 


206  An   Old  Maid. 


u 


Monsieur  le  chevalier,"  replied  Suzanne,  drolly, 
"seems  to  me  I  needn't  tell  you  anything;  you've 
only  to  look." 

And  Suzanne  presented  a  side  view  of  herself  which 
gave  a  sort  of  lawyer's  comment  to  her  words.  The 
chevalier,  who,  you  must  know,  was  a  sly  old  bird, 
lowered  his  right  eye  on  the  grisette,  still  holding  the 
razor  at  his  throat,  and  pretended  to  understand. 

"Well,  welly  my  little  duck,  we  '11  talk  about  that  pres- 
ently.    But  you  are  rather  previous,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Why,  Monsieur  le  chevalier,  ought  I  to  wait  till 
my  mother  beats  me  and  Madame  Lardot  turns  me  off? 
If  I  don't  get  away  soon  to  Paris,  I  shall  never  be 
able  to  marry  here,  where  men  are  so  ridiculous." 

"It  can't  be  helped,  my  dear;  society  is  changing; 
women  are  just  as  much  victims  to  the  present  state  of 
things  as  the  nobility  themselves.  After  political 
overturn  comes  the  overturn  of  morals.  Alas  !  before 
long  woman  won't  exist "  (he  took  out  the  cotton-wool 
to  arrange  his  ears)  :  "  she  '11  lose  everything  by  rushing 
into  sentiment ;  she  '11  wring  her  nerves  ;  good-bye  to  all 
the  good  little  pleasures  of  our  time,  desired  without 
shame,  accepted  without  nonsense."  (He  polished  up 
the  little  negroes'  heads.)  "  Women  had  hysterics  in 
those  da}Ts  to  get  their  ends,  but  now  "  (he  began  to 
laugh)  "  their  vapors  end  in  charcoal.  In  short, 
marriage  "  (here  he  picked  up  his  pincers  to  remove  a 
hair)  "will  become  a  thing  intolerable;  whereas  it 
used  to  be  so  gay  in  my  day !  The  reigns  of  Louis 
XIV.  and  Louis  XV.  —  remember  this,  my  child  —  said 
farewell  to  the  finest  manners  and  morals  ever  known 
to  the  world." 


An   Old  Maid.  207 

"  But,  Monsieur  le  chevalier,''  said  the  grisette,  "  the 
matter  now  concerns  the  morals  and  honor  of  your 
poor  little  Suzanne,  and  I  hope  you  won't  abandon 
her." 

"Abandon  her!"  cried  the  chevalier,  finishing  his 
hair;   "I  'd  sooner  abandon  my  own  name." 

"  Ah  !  "  exclaimed  Suzanne. 

"Now,  listen  to  me,  you  little  mischief,"  said  the 
chevalier,  sitting  down  on  a  huge  sofa,  formerly 
called  a  duchesse,  which  Madame  Lardot  had  been  at 
some  pains  to  find  for  him. 

He  drew  the  magnificent  Suzanne  before  him,  hold- 
ing her  legs  between  his  knees.  She  let  him  do  as  he 
liked,  although  in  the  street  she  was  offish  enough  to 
other  men,  refusing  their  familiarities  partly  from 
decorum  and  partly  from  contempt  for  their  common- 
ness. She  now  stood  audaciously  in  front  of  the 
chevalier,  who,  having  fathomed  in  his  day  many  other 
mysteries  in  minds  that  were  far  more  wily,  took  in 
the  situation  at  a  single  glance.  He  knew  very  well 
that  no  young  girl  would  joke  about  a  real  dis- 
honor ;  but  he  took  good  care  not  to  knock  over  the 
pretty  scaffolding  of  her  lie  as  he  touched  it. 

"We  slander  ourselves,"  he  said  with  inimitable 
craft:  "we  are  as  virtuous  as  that  beautiful  biblical 
girl  whose  name  we  bear ;  we  can  always  marry  as  we 
please,  but  we  are  thirsty  for  Paris,  where  charm- 
ing creatures  —  and  we  are  no  fool  —  get  rich  with- 
out trouble.  We  want  to  go  and  see  if  the  great 
capital  of  pleasures  has  n't  some  young  Chevalier  de 
Valois  in  store  for  us,  with  a  carriage,  diamonds,  an 
opera-box,  and  so   forth.     Russians,  Austrians,  Brit- 


208  An   Old  Maid. 

ons,  have  millions  on  which  we  have  an  eye.  Besides, 
we  are  patriotic ;  we  want  to  help  France  in  getting 
back  her  own  money  from  the  pockets  of  those  gentry. 
Hey  !  hey  !  my  dear  little  devil's  duck  !  it  is  n't  a  bad 
plan.  The  world  you  live  in  may  cry  out  a  bit,  but 
success  justifies  all  things.  The  worst  thing  in  this 
world,  my  dear,  is  to  be  without  money ;  that 's  our 
disease,  yours  and  mine.  Now  inasmuch  as  we  have 
plenty  of  wit,  we  thought  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
parade  our  dear  little  honor,  -or  dishonor,  to  catch 
an  old  boy ;  but  that  old  bo}T,  my  dear  heart,  knows 
the  Alpha  and  the  Omega  of  female  tricks,  —  which 
means  that  you  could  easier  put  salt  on  a  sparrow's 
tail  than  make  me  believe  I  have  anything  to  do  with 
your  little  affair.  Go  to  Paris,  my  dear ;  go  at  the 
cost  of  an  old  celibate,  I  won't  prevent  it ;  in  fact,  I  '11 
help  you,  for  an  old  bachelor,  Suzanne,  is  the  natural 
money-box  of  a  young  girl.  But  don't  drag  me  into 
the  matter.  Listen,  my  queen,  you  who  know  life 
pretty  well ;  you  would  do  me  great  harm  and  give 
me  much  pain,  —  harm,  because  you  would  prevent  my 
marriage  in  a  town  where  people  cling  to  morality ; 
pain,  because  if  you  are  in  trouble  (which  I  den}7,  you 
sly  puss!)  I  haven't  a  penny  to  get  you  out  of  it. 
I  'm  as  poor  as  a  church  mouse ;  you  know  that,  my 
dear.  Ah !  if  I  marry  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  if  I  am 
once  more  rich,  of  course  I  would  prefer  you  to 
Cesarine.  You  've  always  seemed  to  me  as  fine  as  the 
gold  the}'  gild  on  lead  ;  you  were  made  to  be  the  love  of 
a  great  seigneur.  I  think  you  so  clever  that  the  trick 
you  are  trying  to  play  off  on  me  does  n't  surprise  me 
one  bit ;  I  expected  it.     You  are  flinging  the  scabbard 


An   Old  Maid.  209 

after  the  sword,  and  that 's  daring  for  a  girl.  It  takes 
nerve  and  superior  ideas  to  do  it,  my  angel,  and  there- 
fore you  have  won  my  respectful  esteem." 

"  Monsieur  le  chevalier,  I  assure  you,  you  are  mis- 
taken, and  —  " 

She  colored,  and  did  not  dare  to  say  more.  The 
chevalier,  with  a  single  glance,  had  guessed  and 
fathomed  her  whole  plan. 

"Yes,  yes!  I  understand:  you  want  me  to  believe 
it,"  he  said.  "  Well!  I  do  believe  it.  But  take  my 
advice :  go  to  Monsieur  du  Bousquier.  Have  n't  you 
taken  linen  there  for  the  last  six  or  eight  months? 
I'm  not  asking  what  went  on  between  you;  but  I 
know  the  man :  he  has  immense  conceit ;  he  is  an  old 
bachelor,  and  very  rich ;  and  he  only  spends  a  quarter 
of  a  comfortable  income.  If  }7ou  are  as  clever  as  I 
suppose,  you  can  go  to  Paris  at  his  expense.  There, 
run  along,  my  little  doe ;  go  and  twist  him  round  your 
finger.  Only,  mind  this  :  be  as  supple  as  silk ;  at  every 
word  take  a  double  turn  round  him  and  make  a  knot. 
He  is  a  man  to  fear  scandal,  and  if  he  has  given  you 
a  chance  to  put  him  in  the  pillory  —  in  short,  you  un- 
derstand ;  threaten  him  with  the  ladies  of  the  Maternity 
Hospital.  Besides,  he's  ambitious.  A  man  succeeds 
through  his  wife,  and  you  are  handsome  and  clever 
enough  to  make  the  fortune  of  a  husband.  Hey !  the 
mischief  !  jtou  could  hold  your  own  against  all  the  court 
ladies." 

Suzanne,  whose  mind  took  in  at  a  flash  the  cheva- 
lier's last  words,  was  eager  to  run  off  to  du  Bousquier ; 
but,  not  wishing  to  depart  too  abruptly,  she  questioned 
the  chevalier   about  Paris,   all  the  while   helping  him 

14 


210  An   Old  Maid. 

to  dress.  The  chevalier,  however,  divined  her  desire  to 
be  off,  and  favored  it  by  asking  her  to  tell  Cesarine  to 
bring  up  his  chocolate,  which  Madame  Lardot  made 
for  him  every  morning.  Suzanne  then  slipped  away  to 
her  new  victim,  whose  biography  must  here  be  given. 

Born  of  an  old  Alengon  family,  du  Bousquier  was  a 
cross  between  the  bourgeois  and  the  country  squire. 
Finding  himself  without  means  on  the  death  of  his  father, 
he  went,  like  other  ruined  provincials,  to  Paris.  On  the 
breaking  out  of  the  Revolution  he  took  part  in  public 
affairs.  In  spite  of  revolutionary  principles,  which  made 
a  hobby  of  republican  honesty,  the  management  of  public 
business  in  those  days  was  by  no  means  clean.  A  politi- 
cal spy,  a  stock-jobber,  a  contractor,  a  man  who  confis- 
cated in  collusion  with  the  syndic  of  a  commune  the  prop- 
erty of  emigres  in  order  to  sell  them  and  buy  them  in,  a 
minister,  and  a  general  were  all  equally  engaged  in  pub- 
lic business.  From  1793  to  1799  du  Bousquier  was  com- 
missary of  provisions  to  the  French  armies.  He  lived 
in  a  magnificent  hotel  and  was  one  of  the  matadors  of 
finance,  did  business  with  Ouvrard,  kept  open  house, 
and  led  the  scandalous  life  of  the  period,  —  the  life  of 
a  Cincinnatus,  on  sacks  of  corn  harvested  without 
trouble,  stolen  rations,  "little  houses"  full  of  mis- 
tresses, in  which  were  given  splendid  fetes  to  the 
Directors  of  the  Republic. 

The  citizen  du  Bousquier  was  one  of  Barras'  fami- 
liars ;  he  was  on  the  best  of  terms  with  Fouche, 
stood  very  well  with  Bernadotte,  and  fully  expected  to 
become  a  minister  by  throwing  himself  into  the  party 
which  secretly  caballed  against  Bonaparte  until  Ma- 
rengo.    If  it  had  not  been  for  Kellermann's  charge  and 


An   Old  Maid.  211 

Desaix's  death,  du  Bousquier  would  probably  have 
become  a  minister.  lie  was  one  of  the  chief  assist- 
ants of  that  secret  government  whom  Napoleon's  luck 
sent  behind  the  scenes  in  17'.).").  (See  "An  Historical 
Mystery.")  The  unexpected  victory  of  Marengo  was 
the  defeat  of  that  party  who  actually  had  their  procla- 
mations printed  to  return  to  the  principles  of  the 
Montagne  in  case  the  First  Consul  succumbed. 

Convinced  of  the  impossibility  of  Bonaparte's  tri- 
umph, du  Bousquier  staked  the  greater  part  of  his 
property  on  a  fall  in  the  Funds,  and  kept  two  couriers 
on  the  field  of  battle.  The  first  started  for  Paris 
when  Melas'  victory  was  certain  ;  the  second,  starting 
four  hours  later,  brought  the  news  of  the  defeat  of 
the  Austrians.  Du  Bousquier  cursed  Kellermann  and 
Desaix ;  he  dared  not  curse  Bonaparte,  who  might  owe 
him  millions.  This  alternative  of  millions  to  be  earned 
and  present  ruin  staring  him  in  the  face,  deprived 
the  purveyor  of  most  of  his  faculties :  he  became 
nearly  imbecile  for  several  days ;  the  man  had  so 
abused  his  health  by  excesses  that  when  the  thunder- 
bolt fell  upon  him  he  had  no  strength  to  resist.  The 
payment  of  his  bills  against  the  Exchequer  gave  him 
some  hopes  for  the  future,  but,  in  spite  of  all  efforts  to 
ingratiate  himself,  Xapoleon's  hatred  to  the  contractors 
who  had  speculated  on  his  defeat  made  itself  felt ;  du 
Bousquier  was  left  without  a  sou.  The  immorality  of 
his  private  life,  his  intimacy  with  Barras  and  Berna- 
dotte,  displeased  the  First  Consul  even  more  than  his 
manoeuvres  at  the  Bourse,  and  he  struck  du  Bousquier's 
name  from  the  list  of  the  government  contractors. 

Out  of  all  his  past  opulence  du  Bousquier  saved  only 


212  An   Old  Maid. 

twelve  hundred  francs  a  year  from  an  investment  in  the 
Grand  Livre,  which  he  had  happened  to  place  there  by 
pure  caprice,  and  which  saved  him  from  penury.  A 
man  ruined  by  the  First  Consul  interested  the  town  of 
Alencon,  to  which  he  now  returned,  where  royalism 
was  secretly  dominant.  Du  Bousquier,  furious  against 
Bonaparte,  relating  stories  against  him  of  his  mean- 
ness, of  Josephine's  improprieties,  and  all  the  other 
scandalous  anecdotes  of  the  last  ten  years,  was  well 
received. 

About  this  time,  when  he  was  somewhere  between 
forty  and  fifty,  du  Bousquier's  appearance  was  that  of 
a  bachelor  of  thirty-six,  of  medium  height,  plump  as  a 
purveyor,  proud  of  his  vigorous  calves,  with  a  strongly 
marked  countenance,  a  flattened  nose,  the  nostrils 
garnished  with  hair,  black  eyes  with  thick  lashes,  from 
which  darted  shrewd  glances  like  those  of  Monsieur  de 
Talleyrand,  though  somewhat  dulled.  He  still  wore 
republican  whiskers  and  his  hair  very  long ;  his  hands, 
adorned  with  bunches  of  hair  on  each  knuckle,  showed 
the  power  of  his  muscular  system  in  their  prominent  blue 
veins.  He  had  the  chest  of  the  Farnese  Hercules,  and 
shoulders  fit  to  carry  the  stocks.  Such  shoulders  are 
seen  nowadays  only  at  Tortoni's.  This  wealth  of 
masculine  vigor  counted  for  much  in  du  Bousquier's 
relations  with  others.  And  yet  in  him,  as  in  the 
chevalier,  symptoms  appeared  which  contrasted  oddly 
with  the  general  aspect  of  their  persons.  The  late 
purveyor  had  not  the  voice  of  his  muscles.  We  do  not 
mean  that  his  voice  was  a  mere  thread,  such  as  we 
sometimes  hear  issuing  from  the  mouth  of  these  wal- 
ruses ;   on   the   contrary,   it   was   a  strong  voice,   but 


An  Old  Maid.  213 

stifled,  an  idea  of  which  can  be  given  only  by  compar- 
ing it  with  the  noise  of  a  saw  cutting  into  soft  and 
moistened  wood,  —  the  voice  of  a  worn-out  speculator. 
In  spite  of  the  claims  which  the  enmity  of  the  First 
Consul  gave  Monsieur  du  Bousquier  to  enter  the 
royalist  society  of  the  province,  he  was  not  received  in 
the  seven  or  eight  families  who  composed  the  faubourg 
Saint-Germain  of  Alencon,  among  whom  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Valois  was  welcome.  He  had  offered  himself 
in  marriage,  through  her  notary,  to  Mademoiselle 
Armande,  sister  of  the  most  distinguished  noble  in  the 
town ;  to  which  offer  he  received  a  refusal.  He  con- 
soled himself  as  best  he  could  in  the  society  of  a  dozen 
rich  families,  former  manufacturers  of  the  old  point 
d'Alengon,  owners  of  pastures  and  cattle,  or  merchants 
doing  a  wholesale  business  in  linens,  among  whom,  as 
he  hoped,  he  might  find  a  wealthy  wife.  In  fact,  all 
his  hopes  now  converged  to  the  perspective  of  a  fortu- 
nate marriage.  He  was  not  without  a  certain  financial 
ability,  which  many  persons  used  to  their  profit.  Like 
a  ruined  gambler  who  advises  neophytes,  he  pointed 
out  enterprises  and  speculations,  together  with  the 
means  and  chances  of  conducting  them.  He  was 
thought  a  good  administrator,  and  it  was  often  a  ques- 
tion of  making  him  ma}Tor  of  Alencon  ;  but  the  memory 
of  his  underhand  jobbery  still  clung  to  him,  and  he  was 
never  received  at  the  prefecture.  All  the  succeeding 
governments,  even  that  of  the  Hundred  Days,  refused 
to  appoint  him  mayor  of  Alencon,  —  a  place  he  coveted, 
which,  could  he  have  had  it,  would,  he  thought,  have 
won  him  the  hand  of  a  certain  old  maid  on  whom  his 
matrimonial  views  now  turned. 


214  An   Old  Maid. 

Du  Bousquier's  aversion  to  the  Imperial  government 
had  thrown  him  at  first  into  the  royalist  circles  of 
Alencon,  where  he  remained  in  spite  of  the  rebuffs  he 
received  there ;  but  when,  after  the  first  return  of  the 
Bourbons,  he  was  still  excluded  from  the  prefecture, 
that  mortification  inspired  him  with  a  hatred  as  deep 
as  it  was  secret  against  the  royalists.  He  now  returned 
to  his  old  opinions,  and  became  the  leader  of  the 
liberal  party  in  Alencon,  the  invisible  manipulator  of 
elections,  and  did  immense  harm  to  the  Restoration  by 
the  cleverness  of  his  underhand  proceedings  and  the 
perfidy  of  his  outward  behavior.  Du  Bousquier,  like 
all  those  who  live  by  their  heads  only,  carried  on  his 
hatreds  with  the  quiet  tranquillity  of  a  rivulet,  feeble 
apparently,  but  inexhaustible.  His  hatred  was  that  of 
a  negro,  so  peaceful  that  it  deceived  the  enemy.  His 
vengeance,  brooded  over  for  fifteen  years,  was  as  yet 
satisfied  by  no  victory,  not  even  that  of  July,  1830. 

It  was  not  without  some  private  intention  that  the 
Chevalier  de  Valois  had  turned  Suzanne's  designs 
upon  Monsieur  du  Bousquier.  The  liberal  and  the 
royalist  had  mutually  divined  each  other  in  spite  of  the 
wise  dissimulation  with  which  they  hid  their  common 
hope  from  the  rest  of  the  town.  The  two  old  bachelors 
were  secretly  rivals.  Each  had  formed  a  plan  to 
marry  the  Demoiselle  Cormon,  whom  Monsieur  de 
Valois  had  mentioned  to  Suzanne.  Both,  ensconced  in 
their  idea  and  wearing  the  armor  of  apparent  indiffer- 
ence, awaited  the  moment  when  some  lucky  chance 
might  deliver  the  old  maid  over  to  them.  Thus,  if 
the  two  bachelors  had  not  been  kept  asunder  by  the 
two    political    systems    of    which    they    each    offered 


An   Old  Maid.  215 

a  living  expression,  their  private  rivalry  would  still 
have  made  them  enemies.  Epochs  put  their  mark  on 
men.  These  two  individuals  proved  the  truth  of  that 
axiom  by  the  opposing  historic  tints  that  were  visible 
in  their  faces,  in  their  conversation,  in  their  ideas,  and 
in  their  clothes.  One,  abrupt,  energetic,  with  loud, 
brusque  manners,  curt,  rude  speech,  dark  in  tone,  in 
hair,  in  look,  terrible  apparently,  in  reality  as  impotent 
as  an  insurrection,  represented  the  republic  admirably. 
The  other,  gentle  and  polished,  elegant  and  nice, 
attaining  his  ends  by  the  slow  but  infallible  means  of 
diplomacy,  faithful  to  good  taste,  was  the  express 
image  of  the  old  courtier  regime. 

The  two  enemies  met  nearly  every  evening  on  the 
same  ground.  The  war  was  courteous  and  benign  on 
the  side  of  the  chevalier  ;  but  du  Bousquier  showed  less 
ceremony  on  his,  though  still  preserving  the  outward 
appearances  demanded  by.  society,  for  he  did  not  wish 
to  be  driven  from  the  place.  They  themselves  fully 
understood  each  other ;  but  in  spite  of  the  shrewd 
observation  which  provincials  bestow  on  the  petty 
interests  of  their  own  little  centre,  no  one  in  the  town 
suspected  the  rivalry  of  these  two  men.  Monsieur  le 
Chevalier  de  Valois  occupied  a  vantage-ground  :  he  had 
never  asked  for  the  hand  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon ; 
whereas  du  Bousquier,  who  entered  the  lists  soon  after 
his  rejection  by  the  most  distinguished  family  in  the 
place,  had  been  refused.  But  the  chevalier  believed  that 
his  rival  had  still  such  strong;  chances  of  success  that  he 
dealt  him  this  coup  de  Jarnac  with  a  blade  (namely, 
Suzanne)  that  was  finely  tempered  for  the  purpose. 
The  chevalier  had  cast  his  plummet-line  into  the  waters 


216  An   Old  Maid. 

of  du  Bousquier ;  and,  as  we  shall  see  by  the  sequel, 
he  was  not  mistaken  in  any  of  his  conjectures. 

Suzanne  tripped  with  a  light  foot  from  the  rue  du 
Cours,  by  the  rue  de  la  Porte  de  Se'ez  and  the  rue  du 
Bercail,  to  the  rue  du  Cygne,  where,  about  five  years 
earlier,  du  Bousquier  had  bought  a  little  house  built  of 
gray  Jura  stone,  which  is  something  between  Breton 
slate  and  Norman  granite.  There  he  established  him- 
self more  comfortably  than  any  householder  in  town ; 
for  he  had  managed  to  preserve  certain  furniture  and 
decorations  from  the  days  of  his  splendor.  But  pro- 
vincial manners  and  morals  obscured,  little  by  little, 
the  rays  of  this  fallen  Sardanapalus ;  these  vestiges  of 
his  former  luxury  now  produced  the  effect  of  a  glass 
chandelier  in  a  barn.  Harmony,  that  bond  of  all 
work,  human  or  divine,  was  lacking  in  great  things  as 
well  as  in  little  ones.  The  stairs,  up  which  everybody 
mounted  without  wiping  their  feet,  were  never  polished  ; 
the  walls,  painted  by  some  wretched  artisan  of  the 
neighborhood,  were  a  terror  to  the  eye ;  the  stone 
mantel-piece,  ill-carved,  "swore  "with  the  handsome 
clock,  which  was  further  degraded  by  the  company  of 
contemptible  candlesticks.  Like  the  period  which  du 
Bousquier  himself  represented,  the  house  was  a  jumble 
of  dirt  and  magnificence.  Being  considered  a  man 
of  leisure,  du  Bousquier  led  the  same  parasite  life 
as  the  chevalier ;  and  be  who  does  not  spend  his 
income  is  always  rich.  His  only  servant  was  a  sort 
of  Jocrisse,  a  lad  of  the  neighborhood,  rather  a  ninny, 
trained  slowly  and  with  difficulty  to  du  Bonsquier's 
requirements.  His  master  had  taught  him,  as  he 
might  an  orang-outang,   to    rub  the    floors,    dust  the 


An   Old  Maid.  217 

furniture,  black  his  boots,  brush  his  coats,  and  bring 
a  lantern  to  guide  him  home  at  night  if  the  weather 
were  cloudy,  and  clogs  if  it  rained.  Like  many  other 
human  beings,  this  lad  hadn't  stuff  enough  in  him  for 
more  than  one  vice  ;  he  was  a  glutton.  Often,  wThen  du 
Bousquier  went  to  a  grand  dinner,  he  would  take  Rene 
to  wait  at  table ;  on  such  occasions  he  made  him  take 
off  his  blue  cotton  jacket,  with  its  big  pockets  flapping 
round  his  hips,  and  always  bulging  with  handkerchiefs, 
clasp-knives,  fruits,  or  a  handful  of  nuts,  and  forced  him 
to  put  on  a  regulation  coat.  Rene  would  then  stuff 
his  fill  with  the  other  servants.  This  duty,  which  du 
Bousquier  had  turned  into  a  reward,  won  him  the  most 
absolute  discretion  from  the  Breton  servant. 

"  You  here,  mademoiselle!"  said  Rene  to  Suzanne 
when  she  entered  ;  "  't  is  n't  your  day.  We  have  n't  any 
linen  for  the  wash,  tell  Madame  Lardot." 

"  Old  stupid  !  "  said  Suzanne,  laughing. 

The  pretty  girl  went  upstairs,  leaving  Rene  to  finish  his 
porringer  of  buckwheat  in  boiled  milk.  Du  Bousquier, 
still  in  bed,  was  revolving  in  his  mind  his  plans  of 
fortune  ;  for  ambition  was  all  that  was  left  to  him,  as  to 
other  men  who  have  sucked  dry  the  orange  of  pleasure. 
Ambition  and  play  are  inexhaustible ;  in  a  well- 
organized  man  the  passions  which  proceed  from  the 
brain  will  always  survive  the  passions  of  the  heart. 

"  Here  am  I,"  said  Suzanne,  sitting  down  on  the  bed 
and  jangling  the  curtaiu-rings  back  along  the  rod  with 
despotic  vehemence. 

"  Quesaco,  my  charmer?"  said  the  old  bachelor,  sit- 
ting up  in  bed. 

"  Monsieur,"  said  Suzanne,  gravely,  "  you  must  be 


218  An   Old  Maid. 

astonished  to  see  me  here  at  this  hour ;  but  I  find  my- 
self in  a  condition  which  obliges  me  not  to  care  for 
what  people  may  say  about  it." 

"What  does  all  that  mean?"  said  du  Bousquier, 
crossing  his  arms. 

"•Don't  you  understand  me?"  said  Suzanne.  "I 
know,"  she  continued,  making  a  pretty  little  face, 
"  how  ridiculous  it  is  in  a  poor  girl  to  come  and  nag  at 
a  man  for  what  he  thinks  a  mere  nothing.  But  if  you 
really  knew  me,  monsieur,  if  you  knew  all  that  I  am 
capable  of  for  a  man  who  would  attach  himself  to  me 
as  much  as  I'm  attached  to  you,  you  would  never 
repent  having  married  me.  Of  course  it  is  n't  here,  in 
Alen^on,  that  I  could  be  of  service  to  you ;  but  if  we 
went  to  Paris,  you  would  see  where  I  could  lead  a  man 
with  your  mind  and  your  capacities ;  and  just  at  this 
time  too,  when  they  are  remaking  the  government  from 
top  to  toe.  So  —  between  ourselves,  be  it  said  —  is 
what  has  happened  a  misfortune?  Isn't  it  rather  a 
piece  of  luck,  which  will  pay  you  well?  Who  and 
what  are  you  working  for  now?" 

"For  myself,  of  course!"  cried  du  Bousquier, 
brutally. 

"  Monster  !  you  '11  never  be  a  father !  "  said  Suzanne, 
giving  a  tone  of  prophetic  malediction  to  the  words. 

"  Come,  don't  talk  nonsense,  Suzanne,"  replied  du 
Bousquier;  "  I  really  think  I  am  still  dreaming." 

"How  much  more  reality  do  you  want?'  cried 
Suzanne,  standing  up. 

Du  Bousquier  rubbed  his  cotton  night-cap  to  the  top 
of  his  head  with  a  rotatory  motion,  which  plainly  in- 
dicated the  tremendous  fermentation  of  his  ideas. 


An   Old  Maid.  219 


He  actually  believes  it!'  thought  Suzanne,  "  and 
he  's  flattered.     Heaven  !   how  easy  it  is  to  gull  men!  " 

"  Suzanne,  what  the  devil  must  I  do?  It  is  so 
extraordinary  —  I,  who  thought  —  The  fact  is  that  — 
No,  no,  it  can't  be  —  " 

"  What?  you  can't  marry  me?" 

"  Oh!  as  for  that,  no;   I  have  engagements." 

"  With  Mademoiselle  Armande  or  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  who  have  both  refused  you?  Listen  to  me, 
Monsieur  du  Bousquier,  my  honor  does  n't  need 
gendarmes  to  drag  you  to  the  mayor's  office.  I  sha'n't 
lack  for  husbands,  thank  goodness!  and  I  don't  want 
a  man  who  can't  appreciate  what  I  am  worth.  But 
some  day  you  '11  repent  of  the  way  you  are  behaving ; 
for  I  tell  you  now  that  nothing  on  earth,  neither  gold 
nor  silver,  will  induce  me  to  return  the  good  thing  that 
belongs  to  you,  if  you  refuse  to  accept  it  to-day." 

"  But,  Suzanne,  are  you  sure?  " 

"Oh,  monsieur!  "  cried  the  grisette,  wrapping  her 
virtue  round  her,  "  what  do  you  take  me  for?  I  don't 
remind  }tou  of  the  promises  you  made  me,  which  have 
ruined  a  poor  young  girl  whose  only  blame  was  to 
have  as  much  ambition  as  love." 

Du  Bousquier  was  torn  with  conflicting  sentiments, 
joy,  distrust,  calculation.  He  had  long  determined  to 
marry  Mademoiselle  Cormon ;  for  the  Charter,  on 
which  he  had  just  been  ruminating,  offered  to  his 
ambition,  through  the  half  of  her  property,  the  political 
career  of  a  deputy.  Besides,  his  marriage  with  the  old 
maid  would  put  him  socially  so  high  in  the  town  that 
he  would  have  great  influence.  Consequent!}7,  the 
storm  upraised  by  that  malicious  Suzanne  drove  him 


220  An  Old  Maid. 

into  the  wildest  embarrassment.  Without  this  secret 
scheme,  he  would  have  married  Suzanne  without 
hesitation.  In  which  case,  he  could  openly  assume 
the  leadership  of  the  liberal  party  in  Alencon.  After 
such  a  marriage  he  would,  of  course,  renounce  the  best 
society  and  take  up  with  the  bourgeois  class  of  trades- 
men, rich  manufacturers  and  graziers,  who  would 
certainly  carry  him  in  triumph  as  their  candidate. 
Du  Bousquier  already  foresaw  the  Left  side. 

This  solemn  deliberation  he  did  not  conceal;  he 
rubbed  his  hands  over  his  head,  displacing  the  cap 
which  covered  its  disastrous  baldness.  Suzanne, 
meantime,  like  all  those  persons  who  succeed  beyond 
their  hopes,  was  silent  and  amazed.  To  hide  her 
astonishment,  she  assumed  the  melancholy  pose  of  an 
injured  girl  at  the  mercy  of  her  seducer ;  inwardly  she 
was  laughing  like  a  grisette  at  her  clever  trick. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  du  Bousquier  at  length, 
44  I'm  not  to  be  taken  in  with  such  bosh,  not  II" 

Such  was  the  curt  remark  which  ended  du  Bousquier's 
meditation.  He  plumed  himself  on  belonging  to  the 
class  of  cynical  philosophers  who  could  never  be 
''taken  in"  by  women,  —  putting  them,  one  and  all, 
unto  the  same  category,  as  suspicious.  These  strong- 
minded  persons  are  usually  weak  men  who  have  a 
special  catechism  in  the  matter  of  womenkind.  To 
them  the  whole  sex,  from  queens  of  France  to  mil- 
liners, are  essentially  depraved,  licentious,  intriguing, 
not  a  little  rascally,  fundamentally  deceitful,  and  in- 
capable of  thought  about  anything  but  trifles.  To 
them,  women  are  evil-doing  queans,  who  must  be 
allowed  to  dance  and  sing  and  laugh  as  they  please ; 


An  Old  Maid.  221 

they  see  nothing  sacred  or  saintly  in  them,  nor  any- 
thing grand  ;  to  them  there  is  no  poetry  in  the  senses, 
only  gross  sensuality.  Where  such  jurisprudence  pre- 
vails, if  a  woman  is  not  perpetually  tyrannized  over, 
she  reduces  the  man  to  the  condition  of  a  slave.  Under 
this  aspect  du  Bousquier  was  again  the  antithesis  of 
the  chevalier.  When  he  made  his  final  remark,  he 
flung  his  night-cap  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  as  Pope 
Gregory  did  the  taper  when  he  fulminated  an  ex- 
communication ;  Suzanne  then  learned  for  the  first 
time  that  du  Bousquier  wore  a  toupet  covering  his 
bald  spot. 

"  Please  to  remember,  Monsieur  du  Bousquier," 
she  replied  majestically,  "  that  in  coming  here  to  tell 
you  of  this  matter  I  have  done  my  duty ;  remember 
that  I  have  offered  you  my  hand,  and  asked  for  yours ; 
but  remember  also  that  I  behaved  with  the  dignity  of  a 
woman  who  respects  herself.  I  have  not  abased  my- 
self to  weep  like  a  silly  fool ;  I  have  not  insisted ;  I 
have  not  tormented  you.  You  now  know  my  situation. 
You  must  see  that  I  cannot  stay  in  Alengon :  my 
mother  would  beat  me,  and  Madame  Lardot  rides  a 
hobby  of  principles ;  she  '11  turn  me  off.  Poor  work- 
girl  that  I  am,  must  I  go  to  the  hospital?  must  I  beg 
my  bread  ?  No  !  I  'd  rather  throw  nvyself  into  the 
Brillante  or  the  Sarthe.  But  is  n't  it  better  that  I 
should  go  to  Paris?  My  mother  could  find  an  excuse 
to  send  me  there,  —  an  uncle  who  wants  me,  or  a 
dying  aunt,  or  a  lady  who  sends  for  me.  But  I  must 
have  some  money  for  the  journey  and  for  —  you  know 
what." 

This   extraordinary   piece   of   news   was    far    more 


222  An   Old  Maid. 

startling  to  du  Bousquier  than  to  the  Chevalier  de 
Valois.  Suzanne's  fiction  introduced  such  confusion 
into  the  ideas  of  the  old  bachelor  that  he  was  literally 
incapable  of  sober  reflection.  Without  this  agitation 
and  without  his  inward  delight  (for  vanity  is  a  swindler 
which  never  fails  of  its  dupe),  he  would  certainly  have 
reflected  that,  supposing  it  were  true,  a  girl  like  Suzanne, 
whose  heart  was  not  yet  spoiled,  would  have  died  a 
thousand  deaths  before  beginning  a  discussion  of  this 
kind  and  asking  for   money. 

"  Will  you  really  go  to  Paris,  then?  "  he  said. 

A  flash  of  gayety  lighted  Suzanne's  gray  eyes  as  she 
heard  those  words  ;  but  the  self-satisfied  du  Bousquier 
saw  nothing. 

"Yes,  monsieur,"  she  said. 

Du  Bousquier  then  began  bitter  lamentations :  he  had 
the  last  payments  to  make  on  his  house ;  the  painter, 
the  mason,  the  upholsterers  must  be  paid.  Suzanne 
let  him  run  on  ;  she  was  listening  for  the  figures.  Du 
Bousquier  offered  her  three  hundred  francs.  Suzanne 
made  what  is  called  on  the  stage  a  false  exit ;  that  is, 
she  marched  toward  the  door. 

"Stop,  stop!  where  are  you  going?"  said  du 
Bousquier,  uneasily.  "This  is  what  comes  of  a 
bachelor's  life!  "  thought  he.  "The  devil  take  me  if 
I  ever  did  anything  more  than  rumple  her  collar,  and, 
lo  and  behold !  she  makes  that  a  ground  to  put  her 
hand  in  one's  pocket !  " 

"I'm  going,  monsieur,"  replied  Suzanne,  "to 
Madame  Granson,  the  treasurer  of  the  Maternity 
Society,  who,  to  my  knowledge,  has  saved  many  a 
poor  girl  in  my  condition  from  suicide." 


An   Old  Maid.  223 

"Madame  Grauson ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Suzanne,  "a  relation  of  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  the  president  of  the  Maternity  Society.  Sav- 
ing your  presence,  the  ladies  of  the  town  have  created 
an  institution  to  prevent  poor  creatures  from  destroying 
their  infants,  like  that  handsome  Faustine  of  Argentan 
who  was  executed  for  it  three  years  ago." 

"Here,  Suzanne,"  said  du  Bousquier,  giving  her  a 
key,  "  open  that  secretary,  and  take  out  the  bag  you  '11 
find  there  :  there  's  about  six  hundred  francs  in  it ;  it  is 
all  I  possess." 

"Old  cheat!"  thought  Suzanne,  doing  as  he  told 
her,   "I'll  tell  about  your  false  toupet." 

She  compared  du  Bousquier  with  that  charming 
chevalier,  who  had  given  her  nothing,  it  is  true,  but 
who  had  comprehended  her,  advised  her,  and  carried 
all  grisettes  in  his  heart. 

"  If  you  deceive  me,  Suzanne,"  cried  du  Bousquier, 
as  he  saw  her  with  her  hand  in  the  drawer,  "  you  —  " 
-    "Monsieur,"    she    said,  interrupting    him    with   in- 
effable  impertinence,    "wouldn't  you  have   given  me 
money  if   I  had  asked  for  it?" 

Recalled  to  a  sense  of  gallantry,  du  Bousquier  had 
a  remembrance  of  past  happiness  and  grunted  his 
assent.  Suzanne  took  the  bag  and  departed,  after 
allowing  the  old  bachelor  to  kiss  her,  which  he  did 
with  an  air  that  seemed  to  say,  "It  is  a  right  which 
costs  me  dear ;  but  it  is  better  than  being  harried  by 
a  lawyer  in  the  court  of  assizes  as  the  seducer  of  a  girl 
accused  of  infanticide." 

Suzanne  hid  the  sack  in  a  sort  of  gamebag  made  of 
osier  which  she  had  on  her  arm,  all  the  while  cursing 


224  An   Old  Maid. 

du  Bousquier  for  his  stinginess ;  for  one  thousand 
francs  was  the  sum  she  wanted.  Once  tempted  of  the 
devil  to  desire  that  sum,  a  girl  will  go  far  when  she 
has  set  foot  on  the  path  of  trickery.  As  she  made  her 
way  along  the  rue  du  Bercail,  it  came  into  her  head 
that  the  Maternity  Society,  presided  over  by  Mademoi- 
selle Cormon,  might  be  induced  to  complete  the  sum  at 
which  she  had  reckoned  her  journey  to  Paris,  which  to 
a  grisette  of  Alencon  seemed  considerable.  Besides,, 
she  hated  du  Bousquier.  The  latter  had  evidently 
feared  a  revelation  of  his  supposed  misconduct  to 
Madame  Granson ;  and  Suzanne,  at  the  risk  of  not 
getting  a  penny  from  the  society,  was  possessed  with 
the  desire,  on  leaving  Alencon,  of  entangling  the  old 
bachelor  in  the  inextricable  meshes  of  a  provincial 
slander.  In  all  grisettes  there  is  something  of  the 
malevolent  mischief  of  a  monkey.  Accordingly, 
Suzanne  now  went  to  see  Madame  Granson,  composing 
hpr  face  to  an  expression  of  the  deepest  dejection. 


An  Old  Maid.  225 


III. 


ATHANASE. 


Madame  Granson,  widow  of  a  lieutenant-colonel  of 
artillery  killed  at  Jena,  possessed,  as  her  whole  means 
of  livelihood,  a  meagre  pension  of  nine  hundred  francs 
a  year,  and  three  hundred  francs  from  property  of  her 
own,  plus  a  son  whose  support  and  education  had 
eaten  up  all  her  savings.  She  occupied,  in  the  rue  du 
Bercail,  one  of  those  melancholy  ground-floor  apart- 
ments which  a  traveller  passing  along  the  principal 
street  of  a  little  provincial  town  can  look  through  at  a 
glance.  The  street  door  opened  at  the  top  of  three 
steep  steps ;  a  passage  led  to  an  interior  courtyard,  at 
the  end  of  which  was  the  staircase  covered  by  a 
wooden  gallery.  On  one  side  of  the  passage  was  the 
dining-room  and  the  kitchen  ;  on  the  other  side,  a  salon 
put  to  many  uses,  and  the  widow's  bedchamber. 

Athanase  Granson,  a  young  man  twenty-three  years 
of  age,  who  slept  in  an  attic  room  above  the  second 
floor  of  the  house,  added  six  hundred  francs  to  the  in- 
come of  his  poor  mother,  by  the  salary  of  a  little  place 
which  the  influence  of  his  relation,  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  had  obtained  for  him  in  the  mayor's  office, 
where  he  was  placed  in  charge  of  the  archives. 

From  these  indications  it  is  easy  to  imagine  Madame 
Granson  in  her  cold  salon  with  its  yellow  curtains  and 

15 


226  An   Old  Maid, 

Utrecht  velvet  furniture,  also  yellow,  as  she  straightened 
the  round  straw  mats  which  were  placed  before  each 
chair,  that  visitors  might  not  soil  the  red-tiled  floor 
while  they  sat  there ;  after  which  she  returned  to  her 
cushioned  armchair  and  little  work-table  placed  be- 
neath the  portrait  of  the  lieutenant-colonel  of  artillery 
between  two  windows,  —  a  point  from  which  her  eye 
could  rake  the  rue  du  Bercail  and  see  all  coiners.  She 
was  a  good  woman,  dressed  with  bourgeois  simplicity 
in  keeping  with  her  wan  face  furrowed  by  grief.  The 
rigorous  humbleness  of  poverty  made  itself  felt  in  all 
the  accessories  of  this  household,  the  very  air  of 
which  was  charged  with  the  stern  and  upright  morals 
of  the  provinces.  At  this  moment  the  son  and  mother 
were  together  in  the  dining-room,  where  they  were 
breakfasting  on  a  cup  of  coffee,  with  bread  and 
butter  and  radishes.  To  make  the  pleasure  which 
Suzanne's  visit  was  to  give  to  Madame  Granson  in- 
telligible, we  must  explain  certain  secret  interests  of 
the  mother  and  son. 

Athanase  Granson  was  a  thin  and  pale  young  man, 
of  medium  height,  with  a  hollow  face  in  which  his  two 
black  eyes,  sparkling  with  thoughts,  gave  the  effect  of 
bits  of  coal.  The  rather  irregular  lines  of  his  face,  the 
curve  of  his  lips,  a  prominent  chin,  the  fine  modelling 
of  his  forehead,  his  melancholy  countenance,  caused 
by  a  sense  of  his  poverty  warring  with  the  powers  that 
he  felt  within  him,  were  all  indications  of  repressed  and 
imprisoned  talent.  In  any  other  place  than  the  town  of 
Alencon  the  mere  aspect  of  his  person  would  have  won 
him  the  assistance  of  superior  men,  or  of  women  who 
are  able  to  recognize  genius  in  obscurity.     If  his  was 


An  Old  Maid.  227 

Dot  genius,  it  was  at  any  rate  the  form  and  aspect  of 
it ;  if  be  had  not  the  actual  force  of  a  great  heart,  the 
glow  of  such  a  heart  was  in  his  glance.  Although  he 
was  capable  of  expressing  the  highest  feeling,  a  casing" 
of  timidity  destroyed  all  the  graces  of  his  youth,  just 
as  the  ice  of  poverty  kept  him  from  daring  to  put 
forth  his  powers.  Provincial  life,  without  an  opening, 
without  appreciation,  without  encouragement,  described 
a  circle  about  him  in  which  languished  and  died  the 
power  of  thought,  —  a  power  which  as  yet  had  scarcely 
reached  its  dawn.  Moreover,  Athanase  possessed  that 
savage  pride  which  poverty  intensities  in  noble  minds, 
exalting  them  in  their  struggle  with  men  and  things ; 
although  at  their  start  in  life  it  is  an  obstacle  to  their 
advancement.  Genius  proceeds  in  two  ways  :  either  it 
takes  its  opportunity  —  like  Napoleon,  like  Moliere  — 
the  moment  that  it  sees  it,  or  it  waits  to  be  sought 
when  it  has  patiently  revealed  itself.  Young  Gran  son 
belonged  to  that  class  of  men  of  talent,  who  distrust 
themselves  and  are  easily  discouraged.  His  soul  was 
contemplative.  He  lived  more  by  thought  than  by 
action.  Perhaps  he  might  have  seemed  deficient  or 
incomplete  to  those  who  cannot  conceive  of  genius 
without  the  sparkle  of  French  passion  ;  but  he  was 
powerful  in  the  world  of  mind,  and  he  was  liable  to 
reach,  through  a  series  of  emotions  imperceptible  to 
common  souls,  those  sudden  determinations  which 
make  fools  say  of  a  man,   "He  is  mad." 

The  contempt  which  the  world  pours  out  on  poverty 
was  death  to  Athanase  ;  the  enervating  heat  of  solitude, 
without  a  breath  or  current  of  air,  relaxed  the  bow 
which  ever  strove  to  tighten  itself  ;  his  soul  grew  weary 


228  An   Old  Maid. 

in  this  painful  effort  without  results.  Athanase  was  a 
man  who  might  have  taken  his  place  among  the  glories 
of  France ;  but,  eagle  as  he  was,  cooped  in  a  cage 
without  his  proper  nourishment,  he  was  about  to  die  of 
hunger  after  contemplating  with  an  ardent  eye  the 
fields  of  air  and  the  mountain  heights  where  genius 
soars.  His  work  in  the  city  library  escaped  attention, 
and  he  buried  in  his  soul  his  thoughts  of  fame,  fearing 
that  they  might  injure  him  ;  but  deeper  than  all  lay 
buried  within  him  the  secret  of  his  heart,  —  a  passion 
which  hollowed  his  cheeks  and  yellowed  his  brow.  He 
loved  his  distant  cousin,  this  very  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
whom  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  and  du  Bousquier,  his 
hidden  rivals,  were  stalking.  This  love  had  had  its 
origin  in  calculation.  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was 
thought  to  be  one  of  the  richest  persons  in  the  town  : 
the  poor  lad  had  therefore  been  led  to  love  her  by  desires 
for  material  happiness,  by  the  hope,  long  indulged,  of 
gilding  with  comfort  his  mother's  last  years,  by  eager 
lonoino-  for  the  ease  of  life  so  needful  to  men  who  live 
by  thought ;  but  this  most  innocent  point  of  departure 
degraded  his  passion  in  his  own  eyes.  Moreover,  he 
feared  the  ridicule  the  world  would  cast  upon  the  love 
of  a  young  man  of  twenty-three  for  an  old  maid  of 
forty. 

And  yet  his  passion  was  real ;  whatever  may  seem 
false  about  such  a  love  elsewhere,  it  can  be  realized 
as  a  fact  in  the  provinces,  where,  manners  and  morals 
being  without  change  or  chance  or  movement  or 
mystery,  marriage  becomes  a  necessity  of  life.  No 
family  will  accept  a  young  man  of  dissolute  habits. 
However  natural   the    liaison  of   a    young    man,    like 


An   Old  Maid.  229 

Athanase,  with  a  handsome  girl,  like  Suzanne,  for 
instance,  might  seem  in  a  capital,  it  alarms  provincial 
parents,  and  destroys  the  hopes  of  marriage  of  a  poor 
young  man  when  possibly  the  fortune  of  a  rich  one 
might  cause  such  an  unfortunate  antecedent  to  be 
overlooked.  Between  the  depravity  of  certain  liaisons 
and  a  sincere  love,  a  man  of  honor  and  no  fortune  will 
not  hesitate :  he  prefers  the  misfortunes  of  virtue  to 
the  evils  of  vice.  But  in  the  provinces  women  with 
whom  a  young  man  can  fall  in  love  are  rare.  A  rich 
young  girl  he  cannot  obtain  in  a  region  where  all  is 
calculation;  a  poor  young  girl  he  is  prevented  from 
loving;  it  would  be,  as  provincials  say,  marrying 
hunger  and  thirst.  Such  monkish  solitude  is,  however, 
dangerous  to  youth. 

These  reflections  explain  why  provincial  life  is  so 
firmly  based  on  marriage.  Thus  we  find  that  ardent 
and  vigorous  genius,  forced  to  rely  on  the  independ- 
ence of  its  own  poverty,  quits  these  cold  regions  where 
thought  is  persecuted  by  brutal  indifference,  where  no 
woman  is  willing  to  be  a  sister  of  charity  to  a  man  of 
talent,  of  art,  of  science. 

Who  will  really  understand  Athanase  Granson's  love 
for  Mademoiselle  Cormon?  Certainly  neither  rich 
men  —  those  sultans  of  society  who  fill  their  harems  — 
nor  middle-class  men,  who  follow  the  well-beaten  high- 
road of  prejudices ;  nor  women  who,  not  choosing  to 
understand  the  passions  of  artists,  impose  the  yoke  of 
their  virtues  upon  men  of  genius,  imagining  that  the 
two  sexes  are  governed  by  the  same  laws. 

Here,  perhaps,  we  should  appeal  to  those  young 
men  who  suffer  from  the  repression  of  their  first  desires 


230  An   Old  Maid. 

at  the  moment  when  all  their  forces  are  developing ; 
to  artists  sick  of  their  own  genius  smothering  under 
the  pressure  of  poverty ;  to  men  of  talent,  persecuted 
and  without  influence,  often  without  friends  at  the 
start,  who  have  ended  by  triumphing  over  that  double 
anguish,  equally  agonizing,  of  soul  and  body.  Such 
men  will  well  understand  the  lancinating  pains  of  the 
cancer  which  was  now  consuming  Athanase ;  they 
have  gone  through  those  Ions:  and  bitter  deliberations 
made  in  presence  of  some  grandiose  purpose  they  had 
not  the  means  to  carry  out ;  they  have  endured  those 
secret  miscarriages  in  which  the  fructifying  seed  of 
genius  falls  on  arid  soil.  Such  men  know  that  the 
grandeur  of  desires  is  in  proportion  to  the  height  and 
breadth  of  the  imagination.  The  higher  they  spring, 
the  lower  they  fall ;  and  how  can  it  be  that  ties  and 
bonds  should  not  be  broken  by  such  a  fall?  Their 
piercing  eye  has  seen  —  as  did  Athanase  —  the  bril- 
liant future  which  awaited  them,  and  from  which  they 
fancied  that  only  a  thin  gauze  parted  them ;  but  that 
gauze  through  which  their  eyes  could  see  is  changed 
by  Society  to  a  wall  of  iron.  Impelled  by  a  vocation, 
by  a  sentiment  of  art,  they  endeavor  again  and  again 
to  live  by  sentiments  which  society  as  incessantly  ma- 
terializes. Alas !  the  provinces  calculate  and  arrange 
marriage  with  the  one  view  of  material  comfort,  and  a 
poor  artist  or  man  of  science  is  forbidden  to  double  its 
purpose  and  make  it  the  saviour  of  his  genius  by 
securing  to  him  the  means  of  subsistence ! 

Moved  by  such  ideas,  Athanase  Granson  first  thought 
of  marriage  with  Mademoiselle  Cormon  as  a  means  of 
obtaining   a    livelihood   which    would    be   permanent. 


An   Old  Maid.  231 

Thence  he  conM  rise  to  fame,  and  make  his  mother 
happy,  knowing  at  the  same  time  that  he  was  capable 
of  faithfully  loving  his  wife.  But  soon  his  own  will 
created,  although  he  did  not  know  it,  a  genuine  pas- 
'sion.  He  began  to  study  the  old  maid,  and,  by  dint  of 
the  charm  which  habit  gives,  he  ended  by  seeing  only 
her  beauties  and  ig;noringj  her  defects. 

In  a  young  man  of  twenty-three  the  senses  count  for 
much  in  love ;  their  fire  produces  a  sort  of  prism 
between  his  eyes  and  the  woman.  From  this  point  of 
view  the  clasp  with  which  Beaumarchais'  Cherubin 
seizes  Marceline  is  a  stroke  of  genius.  But  when  we 
reflect  that  in  the  utter  isolation  to  which  poverty  con- 
demned poor  Athanase,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was  the 
only  figure  presented  to  his  gaze,  that  she  attracted 
his  eye  incessantly,  that  all  the  light  he  had  was  con- 
centrated in  her,  surely  his  love  may  be  considered 
natural. 

This  sentiment,  so  carefully  hidden,  increased  from 
day  to  day.  Desires,  sufferings,  hopes,  and  medita- 
tions swelled  in  quietness  and  silence  the  lake  widen- 
ing ever  in  the  }Toung  man's  breast,  as  hour  by  hour 
added  its  drop  of  water  to  the  volume.  And  the 
wider  this  inward  circle,  drawn  by  the  imagination, 
aided  by  the  senses,  grew,  the  more  imposing  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  appeared  to  Athanase,  and  the  more 
his  own  timidity  increased. 

The  mother  had  divined  the  truth.  Like  all  provin- 
cial mothers,  she  calculated  candidly  in  her  own  mind 
the  advantages  of  the  match.  She  told  herself  that 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  would  be  very  luck}7  to  secure  a 
husband  in  a  young  man  of  twenty-three,  full  of  talent, 


232  An   Old  Maid. 

who  would  always  be  an  honor  to  his  family  and  the 
neighborhood ;  at  the  same  time  the  obstacles  which 
her  son's  want  of  fortune  and  Mademoiselle  Cormon's 
age  presented  to  the  marriage  seemed  to  her  almost 
insurmountable ;  she  could  think  of  nothing;  but 
patience  as  being  able  to  vanquish  them.  Like  du 
Bousquier,  like  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  she  had  a 
policy  of  her  own;  she  was  on  the  watch  for  circum- 
stances, awaiting  the  propitious  moment  for  a  move 
with  the  shrewdness  of  maternal  instinct.  Madame 
Gran  son  had  no  fears  at  all  as  to  the  chevalier,  but 
she  did  suppose  that  du  Bousquier,  although  refused, 
retained  certain  hopes.  As  an  able  and  underhand 
enemy  to  the  latter,  she  did  him  much  secret  harm  in 
the  interests  of  her  son  ;  from  whom,  by  the  b}Te,  she 
carefully  concealed  all  such  proceedings. 

After  this  explanation  it  is  easy  to  understand  the 
importance  which  Suzanne's  lie,  confided  to  Madame 
Granson,  was  about  to  acquire.  AVhat  a  weapon  put 
into  the  hands  of  this  charitable  lady,  the  treasurer  of 
the  Maternity  Society !  How  she  would  gently  and 
demurely  spread  the  news  while  collecting  assistance 
for  the  chaste  Suzanne ! 

At  the  present  moment  Athanase,  leaning  pensively 
on  his  elbow  at  the  breakfast  table,  was  twirling  his 
spoon  in  his  empty  cup  and  contemplating  with  a  pre- 
occupied eye  the  poor  room  with  its  red  brick  floor, 
its  straw  chairs,  its  painted  wooden  buffet,  its  pink 
and  white  curtains  chequered  like  a  backgammon 
board,  which  communicated  with  the  kitchen  through  a 
glass  door.  As  his  back  was  to  the  chimney  which 
his  mother  faced,  and  as  the  chimney  was  opposite  to 


An   Old  Maid.  233 

the  door,  his  pallid  face,  strongly  lighted  from  the 
window,  framed  in  beautiful  black  hair,  the  eyes  gleam- 
ing with  despair  and  fiery  with  morning  thoughts,  was 
the  first  object  which  met  the  eyes  of  the  incoming 
Suzanne.  The  grisette,  who  belonged  to  a  class  which 
certainly  has  the  instinct  of  misery  and  the  sufferings 
of  the  heart,  suddenly  felt  that  electric  spark,  dart- 
ing from  Heaven  knows  where,  which  can  never  be 
explained,  which  some  strong  minds  deny,  but  the 
sympathetic  stroke  of  which  has  been  felt  by  many 
men  and  many  women.  It  is  at  once  a  light  which 
lightens  the  darkness  of  the  future,  a  presentiment 
of  the  sacred  joys  of  a  shared  love,  the  certainty 
of  mutual  comprehension.  Above  all,  it  is  like  the 
touch  of  a  firm  and  able  hand  on  the  keyboard  of 
the  senses.  The  eyes  are  fascinated  by  an  irresist- 
ible attraction  ;  the  heart  is  stirred  ;  the  melodies  of 
happiness  echo  in  the  soul  and  in  the  ears ;  a  voice 
cries  out,  "It  is  he!'  Often  reflection  casts  a 
douche  of  cold  water  on  this  boiling  emotion,  and  all 
is  over. 

In  a  moment,  as  rapid  as  the  flash  of  the  lightning, 
Suzanne  received  the  broadside  of  this  emotion  in  her 
heart.  The  flame  of  a  real  love  burned  up  the  evil 
weeds  fostered  by  a  libertine  and  dissipated  life.  She 
saw  how  much  she  was  losing  of  decency  and  value  by 
accusing  herself  falsely.  What  had  seemed  to  her  a 
joke  the  night  before  became  to  her  eyes  a  serious 
charge  against  herself.  She  recoiled  at  her  own  suc- 
cess. But  the  impossibility  of  any  result ;  the  poverty 
of  the  young  man ;  a  vague  hope  of  enriching  herself, 
of  going  to  Paris  and  returning  with  full  hands  to  say, 


234  An   Old  Maid. 

"I  love  you!  here  are  the  means  of  happiness!  "  or 
mere  fate,  if  you  will  have  it  so,  dried  up  the  next 
moment  this  beneficent  dew. 

The  ambitious  grisette  asked  with  a  timid  air  for  a 
moment's  interview  with  Madame  Granson,  who  took 
her  at  once  into  her  bedchamber.  When  Suzanne 
came  out  she  looked  again  at  Athanase ;  he  was  still  in 
the  same  position,  and  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes. 
As  for  Madame  Granson,  she  was  radiant  with  joy. 
At  last  she  had  a- weapon,  and  a  terrible  one,  against 
du  Bousquier ;  she  could  now  deal  him  a  mortal  blow. 
She  had  of  course  promised  the  poor  seduced  girl  the 
support  of  all  charitable  ladies  and  that  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  Maternity  Society  in  particular ;  she  fore- 
saw a  dozen  visits  which  would  occupy  her  whole  day, 
and  brew  up  a  frightful  storm  on  the  head  of  the  guilty 
du  Bousquier.  The  Chevalier  de  Valois,  while  fore- 
seeing the  turn  the  affair  would  take,  had  really  no 
idea  of  the  scandal  which  would  result  from  his  own 
action. 

"  My  dear  child,"  said  Madame  Granson  to  her  son, 
"we  are  to  dine,  you  know,  with  Mademoiselle  Cor- 
mon ;  do  take  a  little  pains  with  your  appearance. 
You  are  wrong  to  neglect  your  dress  as  you  do.  Put 
on  that  handsome  frilled  shirt  and  your  green  coat  of 
Elbeuf  cloth.  I  have  my  reasons,"  she  added  slyly. 
"  Besides,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  is  going  to  Prebau- 
det,  and  many  persons  will  doubtless  call  to  bid  her 
good-bye.  When  a  young  man  is  marriageable  he  ought 
to  take  every  means  to  make  himself  agreeable.  If 
girls  would  onl}T  tell  the  truth,  heavens !  my  dear  boy, 
you  'd  be  astonished  at  what  makes  them  fall  in  love. 


An   Old  Maid.  235 

Often  it  suffices  for  a  man  to  ride  past  them  at  the 
head  of  a  company  of  artillery,  or  show  himself  at 
a  hall  in  tiuht  clothes.  Sometimes  a  mere  turn  of  the 
head,  a  melancholy  attitude,  makes  them  suppose  a 
man's  whole  life  ;  they  '11  invent  a  romance  to  match 
the  hero  —  who  is  often  a  mere  brute,  but  the  marriage 
is  made.  Watch  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  :  study  him  ; 
copy  his  manners ;  see  with  what  ease  he  presents  him- 
self ;  he  never  puts  on  a  stiff  air,  as  you  do.  Talk  a 
little  more ;  one  would  really  think  you  did  n't  know 
anything,  —  you,   who  know  Hebrew  by  heart." 

Athanase  listened  to  his  mother  with  a  surprised 
but  submissive  air;  then  he  rose,  took  his  cap,  and 
went  off  to  the  mayor's  office,  saying  to  himself,  "Can 
my  mother  suspect  my  secret?  " 

He  passed  through  the  rue  du  Val-Noble,  where 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  lived, — a  little  pleasure  which 
he  gave  himself  every  morning,  thinking,  as  usual,  a 
varietv  of  fanciful  things :  — 

"  How  little  she  knows  that  a  young  man  is  passing 
before  her  house  who  loves  her  well,  who  would  be 
faithful  to  her,  who  would  never  cause  her  any  grief  ; 
who  would  leave  her  the  entire  management  of  her 
fortune  without  interference.  Good  God  !  what  fatal- 
ity !  here,  side  by  side,  in  the  same  town,  are  two 
persons  in  our  mutual  condition,  and  yet  nothing  can 
bring  them  together.  Suppose  I  were  to  speak  to  her 
this  evening?"   ' 

During  this  time  Suzanne  had  returned  to  her 
mother's  house  thinking  of  Athanase ;  and,  like  many 
other  women  who  have  longed  to  help  an  adored  man 
beyond   the  limit  of    human   powers,   she  felt  herself 


236  An   Old  Maid. 

capable  of  making  her  body  a  stepping-stone  on  which 
he  could  rise  to  attain  his  throne. 

It  is  now  necessary  to  enter  the  house  of  this  old 
maid  toward  whom  so  many  interests  are  converging, 
where  the  actors  in  this  scene,  with  the  exception  of 
Suzanne,  were  all  to  meet  this  very  evening.  As  for 
Suzanne,  that  handsome  individual  bold  enough  to 
burn  her  ships  like  Alexander  at  her  start  in  life,  and 
to  begin  the  battle  by  a  falsehood,  she  disappears  from 
the  stage,  having  introduced  upon  it  a  violent  element 
of  interest.  Her  utmost  wishes  were  gratified.  She 
quitted  her  native  town  a  few  days  later,  well  supplied 
with  money  and  good  clothes,  among  which  was  a  fine 
dress  of  green  reps  and  a  charming  green  bonnet  lined 
with  pink,  the  gift  of  Monsieur  de  Valois,  —  a  present 
which  she  preferred  to  all  the  rest,  even  the  money. 
If  the  chevalier  had  gone  to  Paris  in  the  days  of  her 
future  brilliancy,  she  would  certainly  have  left  every 
one  for  him.  Like  the  chaste  Susannah  of  the  Bible, 
whom  the  Elders  scarcely  saw,  she  established  herself 
joyously  and  full  of  hope  in  Paris,  while  all  Alencon 
was  deploring  her  misfortunes,  for  which  the  ladies  of 
two  Societies  (Charity  and  Maternity)  manifested  the 
liveliest  sympathy.  Though  Suzanne  is  a  fair  speci- 
men of  those  handsome  Norman  women  whom  a  learned 
physician  reckons  as  comprising  one-third  of  the  fallen 
class  whom  our  monstrous  Paris  absorbs,  it  must  be 
stated  that  she  remained  in  the  upper  and  more  decent 
regions  of  gallantry.  At  an  epoch  when,  as  Monsieur 
de  Valois  said,  Woman  no  longer  existed,  she  was 
simply  "Madame  du  Val-Noble ;  "  in  other  days  she 
would  have  rivalled  the  Rhodopes,  the  Imp^rias,  the 


An   Old  Maid.  237 

Ninons  of  the  past.  One  of  the  most  distinguished 
writers  of  the  Restoration  has  taken  her  under  his 
protection ;  perhaps  he  may  marry  her.  He  is  a 
journalist,  and  consequently  above  public  opinion, 
inasmuch  as  he  manufactures  it  afresh  every  year 
or  two. 


238  An   Old  Maid. 


IV. 

MADEMOISELLE    CORMON. 

In  nearly  all  the  second-class  prefectures  of  France 
there  exists  one  salon  which  is  the  meeting-ground  of 
those  considerable  and  well-considered  persons  of  the 
community  who  are,  nevertheless,  not  the  cream  of 
the  best  society.  The  master  and  mistress  of  such  an 
establishment  are  counted  among  the  leading  persons 
of  the  town ;  they  are  received  wherever  it  may  please 
them  to  visit;  no  fete  is  given,  no  formal  or  diplomatic 
dinner  takes  place,  to  which  they  are  not  invited.  But 
the  chateau  people,  heads  of  families  possessing  great 
estates,  in  short,  the  highest  personages  in  the  depart- 
ment, do  not  go  to  their  houses ;  social  intercourse  be- 
tween them  is  carried  on  by  cards  from  one  to  the 
other,  and  a  dinner  or  soiree  accepted  and  returned. 

This  salon,  in  which  the  lesser  nobility,  the  clergy, 
and  the  magistracy  meet  together,  exerts  a  great  in- 
fluence. The  judgment  and  mind  of  the  region  reside 
in  that  solid,  unostentatious  society,  where  each  man 
knows  the  resources  of  his  neighbor,  where  complete 
indifference  is  shown  to  luxury  and  dress,  —  pleasures 
which  are  thought  childish  in  comparison  to  that  of 
obtaining  ten  or  twelve  acres  of  pasture  land,  —  a  pur- 
chase coveted  for  years,  which  has  probably  given  rise 
to  endless  diplomatic   combinations.     Immovable   in 


An   Old  Maid.  239 

its  prejudices,  good  or  evil,  this  social  circle  follows 
a  beaten  track,  looking  neither  before  it  nor  behind  it. 
It  accepts  nothing  from  Paris  without  long  examina- 
tion and  trial;  it  rejects  cashmeres  as  it  does  invest- 
ments on  the  Grand- Livre;  it  scoffs  at  fashions  and 
novelties;  reads  nothing,  prefers  ignorance,  whether 
of  science,  literature,  or  industrial  inventions.  It 
insists  on  the  removal  of  a  prefect  when  that  official 
does  not  suit  it;  and  if  the  administration  resists,  it 
isolates  him,  after  the  manner  of  bees  who  wall  up  a 
snail  in  wax  when  it  gets  into  their  hive. 

In  this  society  gossip  is  often  turned  into  solemn 
verdicts.  Young  women  are  seldom  seen  there ;  when 
they  come  it  is  to  seek  approbation  of  their  conduct, 
—  a  consecration  of  their  self-importance.  This 
supremacy  granted  to  one  house  is  apt  to  wound  the 
sensibilities  of  other  natives  of  the  region,  who  con- 
sole themselves  by  adding  up  the  cost  it  involves,  and 
by  which  they  profit.  If  it  so  happens  that  there  is 
no  fortune  large  enough  to  keep  open  house  in  this 
way,  the  big-wigs  of  the  place  choose  a  place  of  meet- 
ing, as  they  did  at  Alengon,  in  the  house  of  some 
inoffensive  person,  whose  settled  life  and  character 
and  position  offers  no  umbrage  to  the  vanities  or  in- 
terests of  any  one. 

For  some  years  the  upper  classes  of  Alencon  had 
met  in  this  way  at  the  house  of  an  old  maid,  whose 
fortune  was,  unknown  to  herself,  the  aim  and  object 
of  Madame  Granson,  her  second  cousin,  and  of  the 
two  old  bachelors  whose  secret  hopes  in  that  direction 
we  have  just  unveiled.  This  lady  lived  with  her 
maternal  uncle,  a  former  grand-vicar  of  the  bishopric 


240  An  Old  Maid. 

of  Seez,  once  her  guardian,  and  whose  heir  she  was. 
The  family  of  which  Rose-Marie-Victoire  Cormon 
was  the  present  representative  had  been  in  earlier  days 
among  the  most  considerable  in  the  province.  Though 
belonging  to  the  middle  classes,  she  consorted  with  the 
nobility,  among  whom  she  was  more  or  less  allied,  her 
family  having  furnished,  in  past  years,  stewards  to 
the  Due  d'Alencon,  many  magistrates  to  the  long 
robe,  and  various  bishops  to  the  clergy.  Monsieur  de 
Sponde,  the  maternal  grandfather  of  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  was  elected  by  the  Nobility  to  the  States- 
General,  and  Monsieur  Cormon,  her  father,  by  the 
Tiers-Etat,  though  neither  accepted  the  mission.  For 
the  last  hundred  years  the  daughters  of  the  family  had 
married  nobles  belonging  to  the  province;  conse- 
quently, this  family  had  thrown  out  so  many  suckers 
throughout  the  duchy  as  to  appear  on  nearly  all  the 
genealogical  trees.  No  bourgeois  family  had  ever 
seemed  so  like  nobility. 

The  house  in  which  Mademoiselle  Cormon  lived, 
built  in  Henri  IV. 's  time,  by  Pierre  Cormon,  the 
steward  of  the  last  Due  d'Alencon,  had  always  belonged 
to  the  family;  and  among  the  old  maid's  visible 
possessions  this  one  was  particularly  stimulating  to 
the  covetous  desires  of  the  two  old  lovers.  Yet,  far 
from  producing  revenue,  the  house  was  a  cause  of  ex- 
pense. But  it  is  so  rare  to  find  in  the  very  centre  of  a 
provincial  town  a  private  dwelling  without  unpleasant 
surroundings,  handsome  in  outward  structure  and  con- 
venient within,  that  Alencon  shared  the  envy  of  the 
lovers. 

This  old  mansion  stands  exactly  in  the  middle  of 


An   Old  Maid.  241 

the  rue  du  Yal-Xoble.  It  is  remarkable  for  the 
strength  of  its  construction,  —  a  style  of  building  in- 
troduced  by  Marie  de'  Medici.  Though  built  of  gran- 
ite, —  a  stone  which  is  hard  to  work,  —  its  angles,  and 
the  casings  of  the  doors  and  windows,  are  decorated 
with  corner  blocks  cut  into  diamond  facets.  It  has  only 
one  clear  story  above  the  ground-floor;  but  the  roof, 
rising  steeply,  has  several  projecting  windows,  with 
carved  spandrels  rather  elegantly  enclosed  in  oaken 
frames,  and  externally  adorned  with  balustrades. 
Between  each  of  these  windows  is  a  gargoyle  present- 
ing the  fantastic  jaws  of  an  animal  without  a  body, 
vomiting  the  rain-water  upon  large  stones  pierced  with 
five  holes.  The  two  gables  are  surmounted  by  leaden 
bouquets,  —  a  symbol  of  the  bourgeoisie;  for  nobles 
alone  had  the  privilege  in  former  days  of  having 
weather-vanes.  To  right  of  the  courtyard  are  the 
stables  and  coach-house;  to  left,  the  kitchen,  wood- 
house,  and  laundry. 

One  side  of  the  porte-cochere^  being  left  open,  allowed 
the  passers  in  the  street  to  see  in  the  midst  of  the  vast 
courtyard  a  flower-bed,  the  raised  earth  of  which  was 
held  in  place  by  a  low  privet  hedge.  A  few  monthly 
roses,  pinks,  lilies,  and  Spanish  broom  filled  this  bed, 
around  which,  in  the  summer  season  boxes  of  laures- 
tinus,  pomegranates,  and  myrtle  were  placed.  Struck 
by  the  scrupulous  cleanliness  of  the  courtyard  and 
its  dependencies,  a  stranger  would  at  once  have 
divined  that  the  place  belonged  to  an  old  maid.  The 
eye  which  presided  there  must  have  been  an  unoccu- 
pied, ferreting  eye;  minutely  careful,  less  from  nature, 
than   for   want   of   something    to  do.     An  old  maid, 

16 


242  An   Old  Maid. 

forced  to  employ  her  vacant  days,  could  alone  see  to 
the  grass  being  hoed  from  between  the  paving-stones, 
the  tops  of  the  walls  kept  clean,  the  broom  continually 
going,  and  the  leather  curtains  of  the  coach-house 
always  closed.  She  alone  would  have  introduced,  out 
of  busy  idleness,  a  sort  of  Dutch  cleanliness  into  a 
house  on  the  confines  of  Bretagne  and  Normandie,  —  a 
region  where  they  take  pride  in  professing  an  utter 
indifference  to  comfort. 

Never  did  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  or  du  Bousquier, 
mount  the  steps  of  the  double  stairway  leading  to  the 
portico  of  this  house  without  saying  to  himself,  one, 
that  it  was  fit  for  a  peer  of  France,  the  other,  that  the 
mayor  of  the  town  ought  to  live  there. 

A  glass  door  gave  entrance  from  this  portico  into  an 
antechamber,  a  species  of  gallery  paved  in  red  tiles 
and  wainscoted,  which  served  as  a  hospital  for  the 
family  portraits,  —  some  having  an  eye  put  out,  ethers 
suffering  from  a  dislocated  shoulder;  this  one  held  his 
hat  in  a  hand  that  no  longer  existed;  that  one  was  a 
case  of  amputation  at  the  knee.  Here  were  deposited 
the  cloaks,  clogs,  overshoes,  umbrellas,  hoods,  and 
pelisses  of  the  guests.  It  was  an  arsenal  where  each 
arrival  left  his  baggage  on  arriving,  and  took  it  up 
when  departing.  Along  each  wall  was  a  bench  for  the 
servants  who  arrived  with  lanterns,  and  a  large  stove, 
to  counteract  the  north  wind,  which  blew  through  this 
hall  from  the  garden  to  the  courtyard. 

The  house  was  divided  in  two  equal  parts.  On  one 
side,  toward  the  courtyard,  was  the  well  of  the  stair- 
case, a  large  dining-room  looking  to  the  garden,  and 
an    office   or   pantry    which    communicated    with    the 


An   Old  Maid.  243 

kitchen.  On  the  other  side  was  the  salon,  with  four 
windows,  beyond  which  were  two  smaller  rooms,  — 
one  looking  on  the  garden,  and  used  as  a  boudoir,  the 
other  lighted  from  the  courtyard,  and  used  as  a  sort 
of  office. 

The  upper  floor  contained  a  complete  apartment  for 
a  family  household,  and  a  suite  of  rooms  where  the 
venerable  Abbe  de  Sponde  had  his  abode.  The  garrets 
offered  fine  quarters  to  the  rats  and  mice,  whose  noc- 
turnal performances  were  related  by  Mademoiselle 
Cormon  to  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  with  many  expres- 
sions of  surprise  at  the  inutility  of  her  efforts  to  get 
rid  of  them.  The  garden,  about  half  an  acre  in  size, 
is  margined  by  the  Brillante,  so  named  from  the  par- 
ticles of  mica  which  sparkle  in  its  bed  elsewhere  than 
in  the  Val-Noble,  where  its  shallow  waters  are  stained 
by  the  dyehouses,  and  loaded  with  refuse  from  the 
other  industries  of  the  town.  The  shore  opposite  to 
Mademoiselle  Cormon's  garden  is  crowded  with  houses 
where  a  variety  of  trades  are  carried  on ;  happily  for 
her,  the  occupants  are  quiet  people,  —  a  baker,  a 
cleaner,  an  upholsterer,  and  several  bourgeois.  The 
garden,  full  of  common  flowers,  ends  in  a  natural  ter- 
race, forming  a  qua}7,  down  which  are  several  steps 
leading  to  the  river.  Imagine  on  the  balustrade  of  this 
terrace  a  number  of  tall  vases  of  blue  and  white  pottery, 
in  which  are  gilliflowers ;  and  to  right  and  left,  along  the 
neighboring  walls,  hedges  of  linden  closely  trimmed 
in,  and  you  will  gain  an  idea  of  the  landscape,  full  of 
tranquil  chastity,  modest  cheerfulness,  but  common- 
place withal,  which  surrounded  the  venerable  edifice 
of  the  Cormon  family.     What  peace!  what  tranquil- 


244  An   Old  Maid. 

lit}7!  nothing  pretentious,  but  nothing  transitory;  all 
seems  eternal  there! 

The  ground-floor  is  devoted  wholly  to  the  reception- 
rooms.  The  old,  unchangeable  provincial  spirit  per- 
vades them.  The  great  square  salon  has  four  win- 
dows, modestly  cased  in  woodwork  painted  gray.  A 
single  oblong  mirror  is  placed  above  the  fireplace;  the 
top  of  its  frame  represented  the  Dawn  led  by  the 
Hours,  and  painted  in  cama'ieu  (two  shades  of  one 
color).  This  style  of  painting  infested  the  decorative 
art  of  the  day,  especially  above  door-frames,  where 
the  artist  displayed  his  eternal  Seasons,  and  made  you, 
in  mast  houses  in  the  centre  of  France,  abhor  the 
odious  Cupids,  endlessly  employed  in  skating,  glean- 
ing, twirling,  or  garlanding  one  another  with  flowers. 
Each  window  was  draped  in  green  damask  curtains, 
looped  up  by  heavy  cords,  which  made  them  resemble 
a  vast  dais.  The  furniture,  covered  with  tapestry,  the 
woodwork,  painted  and  varnished,  and  remarkable 
for  the  twisted  forms  so  much  the  fashion  in  the  last 
century,  bore  scenes  from  the  fables  of  La  Fontaine 
on  the  chair-backs;  some  of  this  tapestry  had  been 
mended.  The  ceiling  was  divided  at  the  centre  of  the 
room  by  a  huge  beam,  from  which  depended  an  old 
chandelier  of  rock-crystal  swathed  in  green  gauze. 
On  the  fireplace  were  two  vases  in  Sevres  blue,  and 
two  old  girandoles  attached  to  the  frame  of  the  mirror, 
and  a  clock,  the  subject  of  which,  taken  from  the  last 
scene  of  the  "Deserteur,"  proved  the  enormous  popu- 
larity of  Sedaine's  work.  This  clock,  of  bronze-gilt, 
bore  eleven  personages  upon  it,  each  about  four  inches 
tall.     At  the  back  the  Deserter  was  seen  issuing  from 


An   Old  Maid.  245 

prison  between  the  soldiers;  in  the  foreground  the 
young  woman  lay  fainting,"  and  pointing  to  his  pardon. 
On  the  walls  of  this  salon  were  several  of  the  more 
recent  portraits  of  the  family,  —  one  or  two  by  Rigand, 
and  three  pastels  by  Latonr.  Four  card  tables,  a  back- 
gammon board,  and  a  piquet  table  occupied  the  vast 
room,  the  only  one  in  the  house,  by  the  bye,  which  was 
ceiled. 

The  dining-room,  paved  in  black  and  white  stone, 
not  ceiled,  and  its  beams  painted,  was  furnished  with 
one  of  those  enormous  sideboards  with  marble  tops, 
required  by  the  war  waged  in  the  provinces  against 
the  human  stomach.  The  walls,  painted  in  fresco, 
represented  a  flowery  trellis.  The  seats  were  of  var- 
nished cane,  and  the  doors  of  natural  wood.  All 
things  about  the  place  carried  out  the  patriarchal  air 
which  emanated  from  the  inside  as  well  as  the  outside 
of  the  house.  The  genius  of  the  provinces  preserved 
everything;  nothing  was  new  or  old,  neither  young 
nor  decrepit.  A  cold  precision  made  itself  felt 
throughout. 

CD 

Tourists  in  Normandy,  Brittany,  Maine,  and  Anjou 
must  all  have  seen  in  the  capitals  of  those  provinces 
many  houses  which  resemble  more  or  less  that  of  the 
Cormons;  for  it  is,  in  its  way,  an  archetype  of  the 
burgher  houses  in  that  region  of  France,  and  it  de- 
serves a  place  in  this  history  because  it  serves  to  ex- 
plain manners  and  customs,  and  represents  ideas. 
Who  does  not  already  feel  that  life  must  have  been 
calm  and  monotonously  regular  in  this  old  edifice?  It 
contained  a  library;  but  that  was  placed  below  the 
level  of  the  river.     The  books  were  well  bound  and 


246  An   Old  Maid. 

shelved,  and  the  dust,  far  from  injuring  them,  only 
made  them  valuable.  They  were  preserved  with  the 
care  given  in  these  provinces  deprived  of  vineyards 
to  other  native  products,  desirable  for  their  antique 
perfume,  and  issued  by  the  presses  of  Bourgogne, 
Touraine,  Gascogue,  and  the  South.  The  cost  of 
transportation  was  too  great  to  allow  any  but  the 
best  products  to  be  imported. 

The  basis  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon's  society  con- 
sisted of  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  persons;  some 
went  at  times  to  the  country ;  others  were  occasionally 
ill;  a  few  travelled  about  the  department  on  business; 
but  certain  of  the  faithful  came  every  night  (unless 
invited  elsewhere),  and  so  did  certain  others  com- 
pelled by  duties  or  by  habit  to  live  permanently  in 
the  town.  All  the  personages  were  of  ripe  age;  few 
among  them  had  ever  travelled;  nearly  all  had  spent 
their  lives  in  the  provinces,  and  some  had  taken  part 
in  the  chouannerie.  The  latter  were  beginning  to  speak 
fearlessly  of  that  war,  now  that  rewards  were  being 
showered  on  the  defenders  of  the  good  cause.  Mon- 
sieur de  Valois,  one  of  the  movers  in  the  last  uprising 
(during  which  the  Marquis  de  Montauran,  betrayed 
by  his  mistress,  perished  in  spite  of  the  devotion 
of  Marche-a-Terre,  now  tranquilly  raising  cattle  for 
the  market  near  Mayenne),  —  Monsieur  de  Valois 
had,  during  the  last  six  months,  given  the  key  to 
several  choice  stratagems  practised  upon  an  old  repub- 
lican named  Hulot,  the  commander  of  a  demi-brigade 
stationed  at  Alencon  from  1798  to  1800,  wrho  had  left 
many  memories  in  the  place.     [See  "The  Chouans."] 

The   women  of   this  society  took  little  pains  with 


An   Old  Maid.  247 

their  dress,  except  on  Wednesdays,  when  Mademoiselle 
Cormon  gave  a  dinner,  on  which  occasion  the  guests 
invited  on  the  previous  Wednesday  paid  their  "visit 
of  digestion."  Wednesdays  were  gala  daj^s:  the 
assembly  was  numerous;  guests  and  visitors  appeared 
in  fiocchi ;  some  women  brought  their  sewing,  knitting, 
or  worsted  work;  the  young  girls  were  not  ashamed  to 
make  patterns  for  the  Alencon  point  lace,  with  the 
proceeds  of  which  they  paid  for  their  personal  ex- 
penses. Certain  husbands  brought  their  wives  out  of 
policj7,  for  young  men  were  few  in  that  house;  not  a 
word  could  be  whispered  in  any  ear  without  attracting 
the  attention  of  all;  there  was  therefore  no  danger, 
either  for  young  girls  or  wives,  of  love-making. 

Every  evening,  at  six  o'clock,  the  long  antechamber 
received  its  furniture.  Each  habitue  brought  his  cane, 
his  cloak,  his  lantern.  All  these  persons  knew  each 
other  so  well,  and  their  habits  and  ways  were  so  famil- 
iarly patriarchal,  that  if  by  chance  the  old  Abbe  de 
Sponde  was  lying  down,  or  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was 
in  her  chamber,  neither  Josette,  the  maid,  nor  Jacque- 
lin,  the  man-servant,  nor  Mariette,  the  cook,  informed 
them.  The  first  comer  received  the  second;  then, 
when  the  company  were  sufficiently  numerous  for 
whist,  piquet,  or  boston,  they  began  the  game  with- 
out awaiting  either  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  or  made- 
moiselle. If  it  was  dark,  Josette  or  Jacquelin  would 
hasten  to  light  the  candles  as  soon  as  the  first  bell 
rang.  Seeing  the  salon  lighted  up,  the  abbe  would 
slowly  hurry  to  come  down.  Every  evening  the  back- 
gammon and  the  piquet  tables,  the  three  boston  tables, 
and  the  whist  table  were  filled,  — which  gave  occupa- 


248  An   Old  Maid. 

tion  to  twenty-five  or  thirty  persons;  but  as  many  as 
forty  were  usually  present.  Jacquelin  would  then 
light  the  candles  in  the  other  rooms. 

Between  eight  and  nine  o'clock  the  servants  began 
to  arrive  in  the  antechamber  to  accompany  their  mas- 
ters home;  and,  short  of  a  revolution,  no  one  remained 
in  the  salon  at  ten  o'clock.  At  that  hour  the  guests 
were  departing  in  groups  along  the  streets,  discoursing 
on  the  game,  or  continuing  conversations  on  the  land 
the}^  were  covetous  of  buying,  on  the  terms  of  some 
one's  will,  on  quarrels  among  heirs,  on  the  haughty 
assumption  of  the  aristocratic  portion  of  the  com- 
munity. It  was  like  Paris  when  the  audience  of  a 
theatre  disperses. 

Certain  persons  who  talk  much  of  poesy  and  know 
nothing  about  it,  declaim  against  the  habits  of  life  in 
the  provinces.  But  put  your  forehead  in  your  left 
hand,  rest  one  foot  on  the  fender,  and  your  elbow  on 
your  knee;  then,  if  you  compass  the  idea  of  this  quiet 
and  uniform  scene,  this  house  and  its  interior,  this 
company  and  its  interests,  heightened  by  the  pettiness 
of  its  intellect  like  goldleaf  beaten  between  sheets 
of  parchment,  ask  yourself,  What  is  human  life? 
Try  to  decide  between  him  who  scribbles  jokes  on 
Egyptian  obelisks,  and  him  who  has  "bostoned"  for 
twenty  years  with  Du  Bousquier,  Monsieur  de  Valois, 
Mademoiselle  Cormon,  the  judge  of  the  court,  the 
king's  attorney,  the  Abbe  de  Sponde,  Madame  Gran- 
son,  and  tatti  quantL  If  the  daily  and  punctual  return 
of  the  same  steps  to  the  same  path  is  not  happiness,  it 
imitates  happiness  so  well  that  men  driven  by  the 
storms  of  an  agitated  life  to  reflect  upon  the  blessings 


An   Old  Maid.  249 

of  tranquillity  would  say  that  here  was  happiness 
enough. 

To  reckon  the  importance  of  Mademoiselle  Cor- 
moo's  salon  at  its  true  value,  it  will  suffice  to  say  that 
the  born  statistician  of  the  society,  du  Bousquier,  had 
estimated  that  the  persons  who  frequented  it  controlled 
one  hundred  and  thirty-one  votes  in  the  electoral  col- 
lege, and  mustered  among  themselves  eighteen  hundred 
thousand  francs  a  year  from  landed  estate  in  the 
neighborhood. 

The  town  of  Alencon,  however,  was  not  entirely 
represented  by  this  salon.  The  higher  aristocracy  had 
a  salon  of  their  own ;  moreover,  that  of  the  receiver- 
general  was  like  an  administration  inn  kept  by  the 
government,  where  society  danced,  plotted,  fluttered, 
loved,  and  supped.  These  two  salons  communicated 
by  .means  of  certain  mixed  individuals  with  the  house 
of  Cormon,  and  viee-versa;  but  the  Cormon  establish- 
ment sat  severely  in  judgment  on  the  two  other  camps. 
The  luxury  of  their  dinners  was  criticised;  the  ices  at 
their  balls  were  pondered;  the  behavior  of  the  women, 
the  dresses,  and  "novelties"  there  produced  were  dis- 
cussed and  disapproved. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon,  a  species  of  firm,  as  one 
might  say,  under  whose  name  was  comprised  an  impos- 
ing coterie,  was  naturally  the  aim  and  object  of  two 
ambitious  men  as  deep  and  wily  as  the  Chevalier  de 
Valois  and  du  Bousquier.  To  the  one  as  well  as  to  the 
other,  she  meant  election  as  deputy,  resulting,  for  the 
noble,  in  the  peerage,  for  the  purveyor,  in  a  receiver- 
generalship.  A  leading  salon  is  a  difficult  thing  to 
create,  whether  in  Paris  or  the  provinces,  and  here  was 


250  An   Old  Maid. 

one  already  created.  To  marry  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
was  to  reign  in  Alencon.  Athanase  Granson,  the 
only  one  of  the  three  suitors  for  the  hand  of  the  old 
maid  who  no  longer  calculated  profits,  now  loved  her 
person  as  well  as  her  fortune. 

To  employ  the  jargon  of  the  day,  is  there  not  a  sin- 
gular drama  in  the  situation  of  these  four  personages? 
Surely  there  is  something  odd  and  fantastic  in  three 
rivalries  silently  encompassing  a  woman  who  never 
guessed  their  existence,  in  spite  of  an  eager  and 
legitimate  desire  to  be  married.  And  yet,  though  all 
these  circumstances  make  the  spinsterhood  of  this  old 
maid  an  extraordinary  thing,  it  is  not  difficult  to 
explain  how  and  why,  in  spite  of  her  fortune  and  her 
three  lovers,  she  was  still  unmarried.  In  the  first 
place,  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  following  the  custom 
and  rule  of  her  house,  had  always  desired  to  marry  a 
nobleman;  but  from  1788  to  1798  public  circumstances 
were  very  unfavorable  to  such  pretensions.  Though 
she  wanted  to  be  a  woman  of  condition,  as  the  saying 
is,  she  was  horribly  afraid  of  the  Revolutionary  tri- 
bunal. The  two  sentiments,  equal  in  force,  kept  her 
stationary  by  a  law  as  true  in  ethics  as  it  is  in  statics. 
This  state  of  uncertain  expectation  is  pleasing  to  un- 
married women  as  long  as  they  feel  themselves  young, 
and  in  a  position  to  choose  a  husband.  France  knows 
that  the  political  system  of  Napoleon  resulted  in  mak- 
ing many  widows.  Under  that  regime  heiresses  were 
entirely  out  of  proportion  in  numbers  to  the  bachelors 
who  wanted  to  marry.  When  the  Consulate  restored 
internal  order,  external  difficulties  made  the  marriage 
of  Mademoiselle  Cormon  as  difficult  to  arrange  as  it 


An   Old  Maid.  251 

had  been  in  the  past.  If,  on  the  one  hand,  Rose- 
Marie-Victoire  refused  to  marry  an  old  man,  on  the 
other,  the  fear  of  ridicule  forbade  her  to  marry  a  very 
young  one. 

In  the  provinces,  families  marry  their  sons  early 
to  escape  the  conscription.  In  addition  to  all  this, 
she  was  obstinately  determined  not  to  marry  a  soldier: 
she  did  not  intend  to  take  a  man  and  then  give  him 
up  to  the  Emperor;  she  wanted  him  for  herself  alone. 
With  these  views,  she  found  it  therefore  impossible, 
from  1804  to  1815,  to  enter  the  lists  with  young  girls 
who  were  rivalling  each  other  for  suitable  matches. 

Besides  her  predilection  for  the  nobility,  Mademoi- 
selle Cormon  had  another  and  very  excusable  mania: 
that  of  being  loved  for  herself.  You  could  hardly 
believe  the  lengths  to  which  this  desire  led  her.  She 
employed  her  mind  on  setting  traps  for  her  possible 
lovers,  in  order  to  test  their  real  sentiments.  Her  nets 
were  so  well  laid  that  the  luckless  suitors  were  all 
caught,  and  succumbed  to  the  test  she  applied  to  them 
without  their  knowledge.  Mademoiselle  Cormon  did 
not  study  them;  she  watched  them.  A  single  word 
said  heedlessly,  a  joke  (that  she  often  was  unable  to 
understand),  sufficed  to  make  her  reject  an  aspirant  as 
unworthy:  this  one  had  neither  heart  nor  delicac}T; 
that  one  told  lies,  and  was  not  religious;  a  third  only 
wanted  to  coin  money  under  the  cloak  of  marriage; 
another  was  not  of  a  nature  to  make  a  woman  happy; 
here  she  suspected  hereditary  gout;  there  certain  im- 
moral antecedents  alarmed  her.  Like  the  Church,  she 
required  a  noble  priest  at  her  altar;  she  even  wanted 
to  be  "married  for  imaginary  ugliness  and  pretended 


252  An   Old  Maid. 

defects,  just  as  other  women  wish  to  be  loved  for  the 
good  qualities  they  have  not,  and  for  imaginary 
beauties.  Mademoiselle  Cormon's  ambition  took  its 
rise  in  the  most  delicate  and  sensitive  feminine  feel- 
ing; she  longed  to  reward  a  lover  by  revealing  to  him 
a  thousand  virtues  after  marriage,  as  other  women 
then  betray  the  imperfections  they  have  hitherto 
concealed.  But  she  was  ill  understood.  The  noble 
woman  met  with  none  but  common  souls  in  whom  the 
reckoning  of  actual  interests  was  paramount,  and  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  nobler  calculations  of  sentiment. 
The  farther  she  advanced  toward  that  fatal  epoch  so 
adroitly  called  the  "second  youth,"  the  more  her  dis- 
trust increased.  She  affected  to  present  herself  in  the 
most  unfavorable  light,  and  played  her  part  so  well 
that  the  last  wooers  hesitated  to  link  their  fate  to  that 
of  a  person  whose  virtuous  blind-man's-buff  required 
an  amount  of  penetration  that  men  who  want  the 
virtues  ready-made  would  not  bestow  upon  it.  The 
constant  fear  of  being  married  for  her  money  rendered 
her  suspicious  and  uneasy  beyond  all  reason.  She 
turned  to  the  rich  men ;  but  the  rich  are  in  search  of 
great  marriages;  she  feared  the  poor  men,  in  whom 
she  denied  the  disinterestedness  she  sought  so  eagerly. 
After  each  disappointment  in  marriage,  the  poor  lady, 
led  to  despise  mankind,  began  to  see  them  all  in  a 
false  light.  Her  character  acquired,  necessarily,  a 
secret  misanthropy,  which  threw  a  tinge  of  bitterness 
into  her  conversation,  and  some  severity  into  her  eyes. 
Celibacy  gave  to  her  manners  and  habits  a  certain 
increasing  rigidity;  for  she  endeavored  to  sanctify  her- 
self in  despair  of  fate.     Noble  vengeance!    she   was 


An   Old  Maid.  253 

cutting  for  God  the  rough  diamond  rejected  by  man. 
Before  long  public  opinion  was  against  her;  for  society 
accepts  the  verdict  an  independent  woman  renders  on 
herself  by  not  marrying,  either  through  losing  suitors 
or  rejecting  them.  Everybody  supposed  that  these 
rejections  were  founded  on  secret  reasons,  always  ill 
interpreted.  One  said  she  was  deformed ;  another 
suggested  some  hidden  fault;  but  the  poor  girl  was 
really  as  pure  as  a  saint,  as  healthy  as  an  infant,  and 
full  of  loving  kindness;  Nature  had  intended  her  for 
all  the  pleasures,  all  the  joys,  and  all  the  fatigues  of 
motherhood. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  did  not  possess  in  her  person 
an  obliging  auxiliary  to  her  desires.     She  had  no  other 
beauty  than  that  very  improperly  called  la  beaut e  du 
diable,  which  consists  in  a  buxom  freshness  of  youth 
that   the   devil,    theologically   speaking,    could    never 
have,  —  though    perhaps    the  expression    may  be  ex- 
plained by  the  constant  desire  that  must  surely  possess 
him  to  cool  and  refresh  himself.    The  feet  of  the  heiress 
were  broad  and  flat.     Her  leg,  which  she  often  exposed 
to  sight  by  her  manner  (be  it  said  without  malice)  of 
lifting  her  gown  when  it  rained,  could  never  have  been 
taken  for  the  lesf  of  a  woman.     It  was  sinewv,  with  a 
thick  projecting  calf  like  a  sailor's.     A  stout  waist, 
the  plumpness  of  a  wet-nurse,   strong  dimpled  arms, 
red  hands,  were  all  in  keeping  with  the  swelling  out- 
lines and  the  fat  whiteness  of  Norman  beauty.     Pro- 
jecting eyes,  undecided  in  color,  gave  to  her  face,  the 
rounded    outline   of   which  had  no  dignity,  an  air  of 
surprise  and  sheepish  simplicity,  which  was  suitable 
perhaps  for  an  old  maid.     If  Rose  had  not  been,  as 


254  An   Old  Maid. 

she  was,  really  innocent,  she  would  have  seemed  so. 
An  aquiline  nose  contrasted  curiously  with  the  narrow- 
ness of  her  forehead ;  for  it  is  rare  that  that  form  of 
nose  does  not  carry  with  it  a  fine  brow.  In  spite  of 
her  thick  red  lips,  a  sign  of  great  kindliness,  the 
forehead  revealed  too  great  a  lack  of  ideas  to  allow  of 
the  heart  being  guided  by  intellect;  she  was  evidently 
benevolent  without  grace.  How  severely  we  reproach 
Virtue  for  its  defects,  and  how  full  of  indulgence  we 
all  are  for  the  pleasanter  qualities  of  Vice! 

Chestnut  hair  of  extraordinary  length  gave  to  Rose 
Cormon's  face  a  beauty  which  results  from  vigor  and 
abundance,  —  the  physical  qualities  most  apparent  in 
her  person.  In  the  days  of  her  chief  pretensions, 
Rose  affected  to  hold  her  head  at  the  three-quarter 
angle,  in  order  to  exhibit  a  very  pretty  ear,  which 
detached  itself  well  from  the  blue-veined  whiteness 
of  her  throat  and  temples,  set  off,  as  it  was,  by  her 
wealth  of  hair.  Seen  thus  in  a  ball-dress,  she  might 
have  seemed  handsome.  Her  protuberant  outlines 
and  her  vigorous  health  did,  in  fact,  draw  from  the 
officers  of  the  Empire  the  approving  exclamation,  — 

"What  a  fine  slip  of  a  girl!  " 

But,  as  years  rolled  on,  this  plumpness,  encouraged 
by  a  tranquil,  wholesome  life,  had  insensibly  so  ill 
spread  itself  over  the  whole  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon's 
body  that  her  primitive  proportions  were  destroyed. 
At  the  present  moment,  no  corset  could  restore  a  pair 
of  hips  to  the  poor  lady,  who  seemed  to  have  been 
cast  in  a  single  mould.  The  youthful  harmony  of  her 
bosom  existed  no  longer;  and  its  excessive  amplitude 
made  the  spectator  fear  that  if  she  stooped  its  heavy 


An   Old  Maid.  255 

masses  might  topple  her  over.  But  nature  had  pro- 
vided against  this  by  giving  her  a  natural  counterpoise, 
which  rendered  needless  the  deceitful  adjunct  of  a 
bustle  ;  in  Rose  Cormon  everything  was  genuine. 
Her  chin,  as  it  doubled,  reduced  the  length  of  her 
neck,  and  hindered  the  easy  carriage  of  her  head. 
Rose  had  no  wrinkles,  but  she  had  folds  of  flesh;  and 
jesters  declared  that  to  save  chafing  she  powdered  her 
skin  as  they  do  an  infant's. 

This  ample  person  offered  to  a  young  man  full  of 
ardent  desires  like  Athanase  an  attraction  to  which 
he  had  succumbed.  Young  imaginations,  essentially 
eager  and  courageous,  like  to  rove  upon  these  fine 
living  sheets  of  flesh.  Rose  was  like  a  plump  partridge 
attracting  the  knife  of  a  gourmet.  Many  an  elegant 
Parisian  deep  in  debt  would  very  willingly  have 
resigned  himself  to  make  the  happiness  of  Mademoi- 
selle Cormon.  But,  alas !  the  poor  girl  was  now  forty 
years  old.  At  this  period,  after  vainly  seeking  to  put 
into  her  life  those  interests  which  make  the  Woman, 
and  finding  herself  forced  to  be  still  unmarried,  she 
fortified  her  virtue  by  stern  religious  practices.  She 
had  recourse  to  religion,  the  great  consoler  of  oppressed 
virginity.  A  confessor  had,  for  the  last  three  years, 
directed  Mademoiselle  Cormon  rather  stupidly  in  the 
path  of  maceration ;  he  advised  the  use  of  scourging, 
which,  if  modern  medical  science  is  to  be  believed, 
produces  an  effect  quite  the  contrary  to  that  expected 
by  the  worthy  priest,  whose  hygienic  knowledge  was 
not  extensive. 

These  absurd  practices  were  beginning   to  shed  a 
monastic  tint  over  the  face  of  Rose  Cormon,  who  now 


256  An   Old  Maid. 

saw  with  something  like  despair  her  white  skin  assum- 
ing the  yellow  tones  which  proclaim  maturity.  A 
slight  down  on  her  upper  lip,  about  the  corners,  began 
to  spread  and  darken  like  a  trail  of  smoke;  her  tem- 
ples grew  shiny;  decadence  was  beginning!  It  was 
authentic  in  Alencon  that  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
suffered  from  rush  of  blood  to  the  head.  She  con- 
fided her  ills  to  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  enumerating 
her  foot-baths,  and  consulting  him  as  to  refrigerants. 
On  such  occasions  the  shrewd  old  gentleman  would  pull 
out  his  snuff-box,  gaze  at  the  Princess  Goritza,  and 
say,   by  way  of  conclusion :  — ■ 

"The  right  composing  draught,  my  dear  lad}T,  is  a 
good  and  kind  husband." 

"But  whom  can  one  trust?  "  she  replied. 

The  chevalier  would  then  brush  away  the  snuff  which 
had  settled  in  the  folds  of  his  waistcoat  or  his  paduasoy 
breeches.  To  the  world  at  large  this  gesture  would 
have  seemed  very  natural ;  but  it  always  gave  extreme 
uneasiness  to  the  poor  woman. 

The  violence  of  this  hope  without  an  object  was  so 
great  that  Rose  was  afraid  to  look  a  man  in  the  face 
lest  he  should  perceive  in  her  eyes  the  feelings  that 
filled  her  soul.  By  a  wilfulness,  which  was  perhaps 
only  the  continuation  of  her  earlier  methods,  though 
she  felt  herself  attracted  toward  the  men  who  mio'ht 
still  suit  her,  she  was  so  afraid  of  being  accused  of 
folly  that  she  treated  them  ungraciously.  Most  per- 
sons in  her  society,  being  incapable  of  appreciating  her 
motives,  which  were  always  noble,  explained  her  man- 
ner toward  her  co-celibates  as  the  revenge  of  a  refusal 
received  or  expected.     When   the    year   1815    began, 


An  Old  Maid.  257 

Rose  had  reached  that  fatal  age  which  she  dared  not 
avow.  She  was  forty-two  years  old.  Her  desire  for 
marriage  then  acquired  an  intensity  which  bordered 
on  monomania,  for  she  saw  plainly  that  all  chance  of 
progeny  was  about  to  escape  her;  and  the  thing  which 
in  her  celestial  ignorance  she  desired  above  all  things 
was  the  possession  of  children.  Not  a  person  in  all 
Alencon  ever  attributed  to  this  virtuous  woman  a 
single  desire  for  amorous  license.  She  loved,  as  it 
were,  in  bulk  without  the  slightest  imagination  of  love. 
Rose  was  a  Catholic  Agnes,  incapable  of  inventing 
even  one  of  the  wiles  of  Moliere's  Agnes. 

For  some  months  past  she  had  counted  on  chance. 
The  disbandment  of  the  Imperial  troops  and  the  reor- 
ganization of  the  Royal  army  caused  a  change  in  the 
destination  of  many  officers,  who  returned,  some  on 
half-pay,  others  with  or  without  a  pension,  to  their 
native  towns,  —  all  having  a  desire  to  counteract  their 
luckless  fate,  and  to  end  their  life  in  a  way  which 
might  to  Rose  Connon  be  a  happy  beginning  of  hers. 
It  would  surely  be  strange  if,  among  those  who  re- 
turned to  Alencon  or  its  neighborhood,  no  brave, 
honorable,  and,  above  all,  sound  and  healthy  officer  of 
suitable  age  could  be  found,  whose  character  would  be 
a  passport  among  Bonaparte  opinions;  or  some 
ci-devant  noble  who,  to  regain  his  lost  position,  would 
join  the  ranks  of  the  royalists.  This  hope  kept  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  in  heart  during  the  early  months  of 
that  year.  But,  alas !  all  the  soldiers  who  thus  returned 
were  either  too  old  or  too  young;  too  aggressively 
Bonapartist,  or  too  dissipated;  in  short,  their  several 
situations  were  out  of  keeping  with  the  rank,  fortune, 

17 


258  An   Old  Maid. 

and  morals  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  who  now  grew 
daily  more  and  more  desperate.  The  poor  woman  in 
vain  prayed  to  God  to  send  her  a  husband  with  whom 
she  could  be  piously  happy:  it  was  doubtless  written 
above  that  she  should  die  both  virgin  and  martyr ;  no 
man  suitable  for  a  husband  presented  himself.  The 
conversations  in  her  salon  every  evening  kept  her  in- 
formed of  the  arrival  of  all  strangers  in  Alenc^on,  and 
of  the  facts  of  their  fortune,  rank,  and  habits.  But 
Alencon  is  not  a  town  which  attracts  visitors ;  it  is  not 
on  the  road  to  any  capital;  even  sailors,  travelling 
from  Brest  to  Paris,  never  stop  there.  The  poor  woman 
ended  by  admitting  to  herself  that  she  was  reduced  to 
the  aborigines.  Her  eye  now  began  to  assume  a  cer- 
tain savage  expression,  to  which  the  malicious  cheva- 
lier responded  by  a  shrewd  look  as  he  drew  out  his 
snuff-box  and  gazed  at  the  Princess  Goritza.  Mon- 
sieur de  Valois  was  well  aware  that  in  the  feminine 
ethics  of  love  fidelity  to  a  first  attachment  is  considered 
a  pledge  for  the  future. 

But  Mademoiselle  Cormon  —  we  must  admit  it  — 
was  wanting  in  intellect,  and  did  not  understand  the 
snuff-box  performance.  She  redoubled  her  vigilance 
against  "the  evil  spirit;  "  her  rigid  devotion  and  fixed 
principles  kept  her  cruel  sufferings  hidden  among  the 
mysteries  of  private  life.  Every  evening,  after  the 
company  had  left  her,  she  thought  of  her  lost  youth, 
her  faded  bloom,  the  hopes  of  thwarted  nature ;  and, 
all  the  while  immolating  her  passions  at  the  feet  of 
the  Cross  (like  poems  condemned  to  stay  in  a  desk), 
she  resolved  firmly  that  if,  by  chance,  any  suitor  pre- 
sented   himself,   to  subject  him  to   no  tests,   but   to 


An   Old  Maid.  259 

accept  him  at  once  for  whatever  he  might  be.  She 
even  went  so  far  as  to  think  of  marrying  a  sub- 
lieutenant, a  man  who  smoked  tobacco,  whom  she  pro- 
posed to  render,  by  dint  of  care  and  kindness,  one  of 
the  best  men  in  the  world,  although  he  was  hampered 
with  debts. 

But  it  was  only  in  the  silence  of  the  night  watches 
that  these  fantastic  marriages,  in  which  she  played  the 
sublime  role  of  guardian  angel,  took  place.  The  next 
day,  though  Josette  found  her  mistress's  bed  in  a 
tossed  and  tumbled  condition,  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
had  recovered  her  dignity,  and  could  only  think  of 
a  man  of  forty,  a  land-owner,  well  preserved,  and  a 
quasi-young  man. 

The  Abbe  de  Sponde  was  incapable  of  giving  his 
niece  the  slightest  aid  in  her  matrimonial  manoeuvres. 
The  worthy  soul,  now  seventy  years  of  age,  attributed 
the  disasters  of  the  French  Revolution  to  the  design  of 
Providence,  eager  to  punish  a  dissolute  Church.  He 
had  therefore  flung  himself  into  the  path,  long  since 
abandoned,  which  anchorites  once  followed  in  order 
to  reach  heaven:  he  led  an  ascetic  life  without  pro- 
claiming it,  and  without  external  credit.  He  hid  from 
the  world  his  works  of  charity,  his  continual  pra}Ters, 
his  penances ;  he  thought  that  all  priests  should  have 
acted  thus  during  the  days  of  wrath  and  terror,  and  he 
preached  by  example.  While  presenting  to  the  world 
a  calm  and  smiling  face,  he  had  ended  by  detaching 
himself  utterly  from  earthly  interests ;  his  mind  turned 
exclusively  to  sufferers,  to  the  needs  of  the  Church, 
and  to  his  own  salvation.  He  left  the  management  of 
his  property  to  his  niece,  who  gave  him  the  income  of 


260  An  Old  Maid. 

it,  and  to  whom  he  paid  a  slender  board  in  order  to 
spend  the  surplus  in  secret  alms  and  in  gifts  to  the 
Church. 

All  the  abbe's  affections  were  concentrated  on  his 
niece,  who  regarded  him  as  a  father,  but  an  abstracted 
father,  unable  to  conceive  the  agitations  of  the  flesh, 
and  thanking  God  for  maintaining  his  dear  daughter  in 
a  state  of  celibacy;  for  he  had,  from  his  youth  up, 
adopted  the  principles  of  Saint  John  Chrysostom,  who 
wrote  that  "the  virgin  state  is  as  far  above  the  mar- 
riage state  as  the  angel  is  above  humanity. "  Accus- 
tomed to  reverence  her  uncle,  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
dared  not  initiate  him  into  the  desires  which  filled  her 
soul  for  a  change  of  state.  The  worthy  man,  accus- 
tomed, on  his  side,  to  the  ways  of  the  house,  would 
scarcely  have  liked  the  introduction  of  a  husband. 
Preoccupied  by  the  sufferings  he  soothed,  lost  in  the 
depths  of  prayer,  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  had  periods  of 
abstraction  which  the  habitues  of  the  house  regarded 
as  absent-mindedness.  In  any  case,  he  talked  little; 
but  his  silence  was  affable  and  benevolent.  He  was  a 
man  of  great  height  and  spare,  with  grave  and  solemn 
manners,  though  his  face  expressed  all  gentle  senti- 
ments and  an  inward  calm;  while  his  mere  presence 
carried  with  it  a  sacred  authority.  He  was  very  fond 
of  the  Voltairean  chevalier.  Those  two  majestic 
relics  of  the  nobility  and  clergy,  though  of  very  differ- 
ent habits  and  morals,  recognized  each  other  by  their 
generous  traits.  Besides,  the  chevalier  was  as  unc- 
tuous with  the  abbe  as  he  was  paternal  with  the 
grisettes. 

Some  persons  may  fancy  that  Mademoiselle  Cormon 


An   Old  Maid.  261 

used  every  means  to  attain  her  end ;  and  that  among 
the  legitimate  lures  of  womanhood  she  devoted  herself 
to  dress,  wore  low-necked  gowns,  and  employed  the 
negative  coquetries  of  a  magnificent  display  of  arms. 
Not  at  all !  She  was  as  heroic  and  immovable  in  her 
high-necked  chemisette  as  a  sentry  in  his  box.  Her 
gowns,  bonnets,  and  chiffons  were  all  cut  and  made  by 
the  dressmaker  and  the  milliner  of  Alencon,  two  hump- 
backed sisters,  who  were  not  without  some  taste.  In 
spite  of  the  entreaties  of  those  artists,  Mademoiselle 
Corrnon  refused  to  employ  the  airy  deceits  of  elegance; 
she  chose  to  be  substantial  in  all  things,  flesh  and 
feathers.  But  perhaps  the  heavy  fashion  of  her  gowns 
was  best  suited  to  her  cast  of  countenance.  Let 
those  laugh  who  will  at  this  poor  girl ;  you  would  have 
thought  her  sublime,  O  generous  souls!  who  care  but 
little  what  form  true  feeling  takes,  but  admire  it  where 
it  is. 

Here  some  light-minded  person  may  exclaim  against 
the  truth  of  this  statement;  they  will  say  that  there  is 
not  in  all  France  a  girl  so  silly  as  to  be  ignorant  of 
the  art  of  angling  for  men;  that  Mademoiselle  Corrnon 
is  one  of  those  monstrous  exceptions  wmich  common- 
sense  should  prevent  a  writer  from  using  as  a  type; 
that  the  most  virtuous  and  also  the  silliest  girl  who 
desires  to  catch  her  fish  knows  wrell  how  to  bait  the 
hook.  But  these  criticisms  fall  before  the  fact  that 
the  noble  catholic,  apostolic,  and  Roman  religion  is 
still  erect  in  Brittany  and  in  the  ancient  duchy  of 
Alencon.  Faith  and  piety  admit  of  no  subtleties. 
Mademoiselle  Corrnon  trod  the  path  of  salvation,  pre- 
ferring the  sorrows  of   her  virginity  so   cruelly  pro- 


262  An   Old  Maid. 

longed  to  the  evils  of  trickery  and  the  sin  of  a  snare. 
In  a  woman  armed  with  a  scourge  virtue  could  never 
compromise;  consequently  both  love  and  self-interest 
were  forced  to  seek  her,  and  seek  her  resolutely.  And 
here  let  us  have  the  courage  to  make  a  cruel  observa- 
tion, in  da}7s  when  religion  is  nothing  more  than  a 
useful  means  to  some,  and  a  poesy  to  others.  Devo- 
tion causes  a  moral  ophthalmia.  By  some  providential 
grace,  it  takes  from  souls  on  the  road  to  eternity  the 
sight  of  many  little  earthly  things.  In  a  word,  pious 
persons,  devotes,  are  stupid  on  various  points.  This 
stupidity  proves  with  what  force  they  turn  their  minds 
to  celestial  matters ;  although  the  Voltairean  Chevalier 
de  Valois  declared  that  it  was  difficult  to  decide 
whether  stupid  people  became  naturally  pious,  or 
whether  piety  had  the  effect  of  making  intelligent 
young  women  stupid.  But  reflect  upon  this  carefully: 
the  purest  catholic  virtue,  with  its  loving  acceptance 
of  all  cups,  with  its  pious  submission  to  the  will  of 
God,  with  its  belief  in  the  print  of  the  divine  finger 
on  the  clay  of  all  earthly  life,  is  the  mysterious  light 
which  glides  into  the  innermost  folds  of  human  history, 
setting  them  in  relief  and  magnifying  them  in  the  eyes 
of  those  who  still  have  Faith.  Besides,  if  there  be 
stupidity,  why  not  concern  ourselves  with  the  sorrows 
of  stupidity  as  well  as  with  the  sorrows  of  genius?  The 
former  is  a  social  element  infinitely  more  abundant 
than  the  latter. 

So,  then,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was  guilty  in  the 
eyes  of  the  world  of  the  divine  ignorance  of  virgins. 
She  was  no  observer,  and  her  behavior  with  her  suitors 
proved  it.     At  this  very  moment,  a  young  girl  of  six- 


An   Old  Maid.  263 

teen,  who  had  never  opened  a  novel,  would  have  read 
a  hundred  chapters  of  a  love  story  in  the  eyes  of 
Athanase  Granson,  where  Mademoiselle  Cormon  saw 
absolutely  nothing.  Shy  herself,  she  never  suspected 
shyness  in  others;  she  did  not  recognize  in  the  qua- 
vering tones  of  his  speech  the  force  of  a  sentiment 
he  could  not  utter.  Capable  of  inventing  those  refine- 
ments of  sentimental  grandeur  which  hindered  her 
marriage  in  her  early  years,  she  yet  could  not  recognize 
them  in  Athanase.  This  moral  phenomenon  will  not 
seem  surprising  to  persons  who  know  that  the  qualities 
of  the  heart  are  as  distinct  from  those  of  the  mind  as 
the  faculties  of  genius  are  from  nobility  of  soul.  A 
perfect,  all-rounded  man  is  so  rare  that  Socrates,  one 
of  the  noblest  pearls  of  humanity,  declared  (as  a. 
phrenologist  of  that  day)  that  he  was  born  to  be  a 
scamp,  and  a  very  bad  one.  A  great  general  may  save 
his  country  at  Zurich,  and  take  commissions  from 
purveyors.  A  great  musician  may  conceive  the  sub- 
limest  music  and  commit  a  forgery.  A  woman  of  true 
feeling  may  be  a  fool.  In  short,  a  devote  may  have  a 
sublime  soul  and  yet  be  unable  to  recognize  the  tones 
of  a  noble  soul  beside  her.  The  caprices  produced  by 
physical  infirmities  are  equally  to  be  met  with  in  the 
mental  and  moral  regions. 

This  good  creature,  who  grieved  at  making  her 
yearly  preserves  for  no  one  but  her  uncle  and  herself, 
was  becoming  almost  ridiculous.  Those  who  felt  a 
sympathy  for  her  on  account  of  her  good  qualities, 
and  others  on  account  of  her  defects,  now  made  fun  of 
her  abortive  marriages,  More  than  one  conversation 
was  based  on  what  would  become  of  so  fine  a  prop- 


264  An   Old  Maid. 

erty,  together  with  the  old  maid's  savings  and  her 
uncle's  inheritance.  For  some  time  past  she  had  been 
suspected  of  being  an  fond,  in  spite  of  appearances, 
an  "original."  In  the  provinces  it  is  not  permissible 
to  be  original:  being  original  means  having  ideas  that 
are  not  understood  by  others ;  the  provinces  demand 
equality  of  mind  as  well  as  equality  of  manners  and 
customs. 

The  marriage  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon  seemed,  after 
1804,  a  thing  so  problematical  that  the  saying  "mar- 
ried like  Mademoiselle  Cormon  "  became  proverbial  in 
Alencon  as  applied  to  ridiculous  failures.  Surely  the 
sarcastic  mood  must  be  an  imperative  need  in  France, 
that  so  excellent  a  woman  should  excite  the  laughter 
of  Alencon.  Not  only  did  she  receive  the  whole 
society  of  the  place  at  her  house,  not  only  was  she 
charitable,  pious,  incapable  of  saying  an  unkind 
thing,  but  she  was  fully  in  accord  with  the  spirit  of 
the  place  and  the  habits  and  customs  of  its  inhabi- 
tants, who  liked  her  as  the  symbol  of  their  lives ;  she 
was  absolutely  inlaid  into  the  ways  of  the  provinces ; 
she  had  never  quitted  them;  she  imbibed  all  their 
prejudices;  she  espoused  all  their  interests;  she 
adored  them. 

In  spite  of  her  income  of  eighteen  thousand  francs 
from  landed  property,  a  very  considerable  fortune  in 
the  provinces,  she  lived  on  a  footing  with  families  who 
were  less  rich.  When  she  went  to  her  country-place 
at  Prebaudet,  she  drove  there  in  an  old  wicker 
carriole,  hung  on  two  straps  of  white  leather,  drawn 
by  a  wheezy  mare,  and  scarcely  protected  by  two 
leather  curtains  rusty  with  age.     This  carriole,  known 


An   Old  Maid.  265 

to  all  the  town,  was  cared  for  by  Jacquelin  as  though 
it  were  the  finest  coupe  in  all  Paris.  Mademoiselle 
valued  it;  she  had  used  it  for  twelve  years,  —  a  fact  to 
which  she  called  attention  with  the  triumphant  joy  of 
happy  avarice.  Most  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  town 
were  grateful  to  Mademoiselle  Cormon  for  not  humili- 
ating them  by  the  luxury  she  could  have  displayed; 
we  may  even  believe  that  had  she  imported  a  caleche 
from  Paris  they  would  have  gossiped  more  about  that 
than  about  her  various  matrimonial  failures.  The 
most  brilliant  equipage  would,  after  all,  have  only 
taken  her,  like  the  old  carriole,  to  Prebaudet.  Now 
the  provinces,  which  look  solely  to  results,  care  little 
about  the  beauty  or  elegance  of  the  means,  provided 
they  are  efficient. 


266  An   Old  Maid. 


V. 


AN    OLD    MAID'S    HOUSEHOLD. 


To  complete  the  picture  of  the  internal  habits  and 
ways  of  this  house,  it  is  necessary  to  group  around 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  and  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  Jacque- 
lin,  Josette,  and  Mariette,  the  cook,  who  employed 
themselves  in  providing  for  the  comfort  of  uncle  and 
niece. 

Jacquelin,  a  man  of  forty,  short,  fat,  ruddy,  and 
brown,  with  a  face  like  a  Breton  sailor,  had  been  in 
the  service  of  the  house  for  twenty-two  years.  He 
waited  at  table,  groomed  the  mare,  gardened,  blacked 
the  abbe's  boots,  went  of  errands,  chopped  the  wood, 
drove  the  carriole,  and  fetched  the  oats,  straw,  and  hay 
from  Prebaudet.  He  sat  in  the  antechamber  during 
the  evening,  where  he  slept  like  a  dormouse.  He  was 
in  love  with  Josette,  a  girl  of  thirty,  whom  Mademoi- 
selle Cormon  would  have  dismissed  had  she  married 
him.  So  the  poor  fond  pair  laid  by  their  wages, 
and  loved  each  other  silently,  waiting,  hoping  for 
mademoiselle's  own  marriage,  as  the  Jews  are  wait- 
ing for  the  Messiah.  Josette,  born  between  Alencon 
and  Mortagne,  was  short  and  plump;  her  face,  which 
looked  like  a  dirty  apricot,  was  not  wanting  in  sense 
and  character;  it  was  said  that  she  ruled  her  mistress. 
Josette  and  Jacquelin,  sure  of  results,  endeavored  to 


An  Old  Maid.  267 

hide  an  inward  satisfaction  which  allows  it  to  be  sup- 
posed that,  as  lovers,  they  had  discounted  the  future. 
Mariette,  the  cook,  who  had  been  fifteen  years  in  the 
household,  kuew  how  to  make  all  the  dishes  held  in 
most  honor  in  Alenqon. 

Perhaps  we  ought  to  count  for  much  the  fat  old 
Norman  brown-bay  mare,  which  drew  Mademoiselle 
Cormon  to  her  country-seat  at  Prebauclet;  for  the  five 
inhabitants  of  the  house  bore  to  this  animal  a  mania- 
cal affection.  She  was  called  Penelope,  and  had  served 
the  family  for  eighteen  years;  but  she  was  kept  so 
carefully  and  fed  with  such  regularity  that  mademoi- 
selle and  Jacquelin  both  hoped  to  use  her  for  ten  years 
longer.  This  beast  was  the  subject  of  perpetual  talk 
and  occupation;  it  seemed  as  if  poor  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  having  no  children  on  whom  her  repressed 
motherly  feelings  could  expend  themselves,  had  turned 
those  sentiments  wholly  on  this  most  fortunate  animal. 

The  four  faithful  servants  —  for  Penelope's  intelli- 
gence raised  her  to  the  level  of  the  other  good  servants ; 
while  they,  on  the  other  hand,  had  lowered  themselves 
to  the  mute,  submissive  regularity  of  the  beast  —  went 
and  came  daily  in  the  same  occupations  with  the  in- 
fallible accuracy  of  mechanism.  But,  as  they  said 
in  their  idiom,  they  had  eaten  their  white  bread  first. 
Mademoiselle  Cormon,  like  all  persons  nervously  agi- 
tated by  a  fixed  idea,  became  hard  to  please,  and 
nagging,  less  by  nature  than  from  the  need  of  employ- 
ing her  activity.  Having  no  husband  or  children  to 
occupy  her,  she  fell  back  on  petty  details.  She  talked 
for  hours  about  mere  nothings,  on  a  dozen  napkins 
marked  "Z,"  placed  in  the  closet  before  the  "O's". 


268  An   Old  Maid. 

"What  can  Josette  be  thinking  of?  "  she  exclaimed. 
"Josette  is  beginning  to  neglect  things." 

Mademoiselle  inquired  for  eight  days  running 
whether  Penelope  had  had  her  oats  at  two  o'clock, 
because  on  one  occasion  Jacquelin  was  a  trifle  late. 
Her  narrow  imagination  spent  itself  on  trifles.  A 
layer  of  dust  forgotten  by  the  feather-duster,  a  slice 
of  toast  ill  made  by  Mariette,  Josette's  delay  in  closing 
the  blinds  when  the  sun  came  round  to  fade  the  colors 
of  the  furniture,  —  all  these  great  little  things  gave  rise 
to  serious  quarrels  in  which  mademoiselle  grew  angry. 
"Everything  was  changing,"  she  would  cry;  "she  did 
not  know  her  own  servants;  the  fact  was  she  spoiled 
them !  "  On  one  occasion  Josette  gave  her  the 
"Journee  du  Chretien"  instead  of  the  "Quinzaine  de 
Paques."  The  whole  town  heard  of  this  disaster  the 
same  evening.  Mademoiselle  had  been  forced  to 
leave  the  church  and  return  home;  and  her  sudden 
departure,  upsetting  the  chairs,  made  people  suppose 
a  catastrophe  had  happened.  She  was  therefore  obliged 
to  explain  the  facts  to  her  friends. 

"Josette,"  she  said  gently,  "such  a  thing  must  never 
happen  again." 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  was,  without  being  aware  of 
it,  made  happier  by  such  little  quarrels,  which  served 
as  cathartics  to  relieve  her  bitterness.  The  soul  has 
its  needs,  and,  like  the  body,  its  gymnastics.  These 
uncertainties  of  temper  were  accepted  by  Josette  and 
Jacquelin  as  changes  in  the  weather  are  accepted  by 
husbandmen.  Those  worthy  souls  remark,  "It  is  fine 
to-day,"  or  "It  rains,"  without  arraigning  the  heavens. 
And  so  when  they  met  in  the  morning  the  servants 


An   Old  Maid.  269 

would  wonder  in  what  humor  mademoiselle  would  get 
up,  just  as  a  farmer  wonders  about  the  mists  at  dawn. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  had  ended,  as  it  was  natural 
she  should  end,  in  contemplating  herself  only  in  the 
infinite  pettinesses  of  her  life.  Herself  and  God,  her 
confessor  and  the  weekly  wash,  her  preserves  and  the 
church  services,  and  her  uncle  to  care  for,  absorbed 
her  feeble  intellect.  To  her  the  atoms  of  life  were 
magnified  by  an  optic  peculiar  to  persons  who  are 
selfish  by  nature  or  self-absorbed  by  some  accident. 
Her  perfect  health  gave  alarming  meaning  to  the  least 
little  derangement  of  her  digestive  organs.  She  lived 
under  the  iron  rod  of  the  medical  science  of  our  fore- 
fathers, and  took  yearly  four  precautionary  doses, 
strong  enough  to  have  killed  Penelope,  though  they 
seemed  to  rejuvenate  her  mistress.  If  Josette,  when 
dressing  her,  chanced  to  discover  a  little  pimple  on 
the  still  satiny  shoulders  of  mademoiselle,  it  became 
the  subject  of  endless  inquiries  as  to  the  various 
alimentary  articles  of  the  preceding  week.  And  what 
a  triumph  when  Josette  reminded  her  mistress  of  a 
certain  hare  that  was  rather  "high,"  and  had  doubtless 
raised  that  accursed  pimple!  With  what  joy  they  said 
to  each  other:  "No  doubt,  no  doubt,  it  was  the  hare!  " 

"Mariette  over-seasoned  it,"  said  mademoiselle. 
"I  am  always  telling  her  to  do  so  lightly  for  my  uncle 
and  for  me;  but  Mariette  has  no  more  memory 
than  —  " 

"The  hare,"  said  Josette. 

"Just  so,"  replied  mademoiselle;  "she  has  no  more 
memory  than  a  hare,  —  a  very  just  remark." 

Four  times  a  year,  at  the  beginning  of  each  season, 


270  An   Old  Maid. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  went  to  pass  a  certain  number 
of  days  on  her  estate  of  Prebaudet.  It  was  now  the 
middle  of  May,  the  period  at  which  she  wished  to 
see  how  her  apple-trees  had  "snowed,"  —  a  saying 
of  that  region  which  expressed  the  effect  produced 
beneath  the  trees  by  the  falling  of  their  blossoms. 
When  the  circular  deposit  of  these  fallen  petals  resem- 
bled a  layer  of  snow  the  owner  of  the  trees  might  hope 
for  an  abundant  supply  of  cider.  While  she  thus 
gauged  her  vats,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  also  attended 
to  the  repairs  which  the  winter  necessitated;  she 
ordered  the  digging  of  her  flower-beds  and  her  vege- 
table garden,  from  which  she  supplied  her  table. 
Every  season  had  its  own  business.  Mademoiselle 
always  gave  a  dinner  of  farewell  to  her  intimate  friends 
the  day  before  her  departure,  although  she  was  certain 
to  see  them  again  within  three  weeks.  It  was  always 
a  piece  of  news  which  echoed  through  Alenqon  when 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  departed.  All  her  visitors, 
especially  those  who  had  missed  a  visit,  came  to  bid 
her  good-bye;  the  salon  was  thronged,  and  every  one 
said  farewell  as  though  she  were  starting  for  Calcutta. 
The  next  day  the  shopkeepers  would  stand  at  their 
doors  to  see  the  old  carriole  pass,  and  they  seemed  to 
be  telling  one  another  some  news  by  repeating  from 
shop  to  shop :  — 

"So  Mademoiselle  Cormon  is  £oin£  to  Prebaudet! " 

Some  said:  "Her  bread  is  baked." 

"Hey!  my  lad,"  replied  the  next  man.  "She's  a 
worthy  woman;  if  money  always  came  into  such  hands 
we  should  n't  see  a  beggar  in  the  country." 

Another  said:  "Dear  me,  I  should  n't  be  surprised 


An   Old  Maid.  271 

if  the  vineyards  were  in  bloom;  here  's  Mademoiselle 
Cormon  going  to  Prebaudet.  How  happens  it  she 
does  n't  marry?  " 

"I'd  marry  her  myself,"  said  a  wag;  "in  fact,  the 
marriage  is  half-made,  for  here 's  one  consenting 
party;  but  the  other  side  won't.  Pooh!  the  oven  is 
heating  for  Monsieur  du  Bousquier." 

"Monsieur  du  Bousquier!  Why,  she  has  refused 
him." 

That  evening  at  all  the  gatherings  it  was  told 
gravely :  — 

"Mademoiselle  Cormon  has  gone." 

Or:  — 

"So  you  have  really  let  Mademoiselle  Cormon  go." 

The  Wednesday  chosen  by  Suzanne  to  make  known 
her  scandal  happened  to  be  this  farewell  Wednesday, 
—  a  day  on  which  Mademoiselle  Cormon  drove  Josette 
distracted  on  the  subject  of  packing.  During  the 
morning,  therefore,  things  had  been  said  and  done  in 
the  town  which  lent  the  utmost  interest  to  this  fare- 
well meeting.  Madame  Granson  had  gone  the  round 
of  a  dozen  houses  while  the  old  maid  was  deliberat- 
ing on  the  things  she  needed  for  the  journey ;  and  the 
malicious  Chevalier  de  Valois  was  playing  piquet 
with  Mademoiselle  Armande,  sister  of  a  distinguished 
old  marquis,  and  the  queen  of  the  salon  of  the  aristo- 
crats. If  it  was  not  uninteresting  to  any  one  to  see 
what  figure  the  seducer  would  cut  that  evening,  it  was 
all  important  for  the  chevalier  and  Madame  Granson 
to  know  how  Mademoiselle  Cormon  would  take  the 
news  in  her  double  capacity  of  marriageable  woman 
and    president   of    the    Maternity    Society.       As    for 


272  An    Old  Maid.     ' 

the  innocent  du  Bousquier,  he  was  taking  a  walk  on  the 
Promenade,  and  beginning  to  suspect  that  Suzanne  had 
tricked  him ;  this  suspicion  confirmed  him  in  his  prin- 
ciples as  to  women. 

On  gala  days  the  table  was  laid  at  Mademoiselle 
Cormon's  about  half-past  three  o'clock.  At  that 
period  the  fashionable  people  of  Alencon  dined  at  four. 
Under  the  Empire  they  still  dined  as  in  former  times 
at  half-past  two;  but  then  they  supped!  One  of  the 
pleasures  which  Mademoiselle  Cormon  valued  most  was 
(without  meaning  any  malice,  although  the  fact  cer- 
tainly rests  on  egotism)  the  unspeakable  satisfaction 
she  derived  from  seeing  herself  dressed  as  mistress 
of  the  house  to  receive  her  guests.  When  she  was 
thus  under  arms  a  ray  of  hope  would  glide  into  the 
darkness  of  her  heart;  a  voice  told  her  that  nature  had 
not  so  abundantly  provided  for  her  in  vain,  and  that 
some  man,  brave  and  enterprising,  would  surely  pre- 
sent himself.  Her  desire  was  refreshed  like  her 
person;  she  contemplated  herself  in  her  heavy  stuffs 
with  a  sort  of  intoxication,  and  this  satisfaction  con- 
tinued when  she  descended  the  stairs  to  cast  her  re- 
doubtable eye  on  the  salon,  the  dinner-table,  and  the 
boudoir.  She  would  then  walk  about  with  the  naive 
contentment  of  the  rich,  —  who  remember  at  all 
moments  that  they  are  rich  and  will  never  want  for 
anything.  She  looked  at  her  eternal  furniture,  her  curi- 
osities, her  lacquers,  and  said  to  herself  that  all  these 
fine  things  wanted  was  a  master.  After  admiring  the 
dining-room,  and  the  oblong  dinner-table,  on  which 
was  spread  a  snow-white  cloth  adorned  with  twenty 
covers  placed  at  equal  distances;  after  verifying  the 


An   Old  Maid.  273 

squadron  of  bottles  she  had  ordered  to  be  brought  up, 
and  which  all  bore  honorable  labels;  after  carefully 
verifying  the  names  written  on  little  bits  of  paper  in 
the  trembling  handwriting  of  the  abbe  (the  only  duty 
he  assumed  in  the  household,  and  one  which  gave  rise 
to  grave  discussions  on  the  place  of  each  guest),  —  after 
going  through  all  these  preliminary  acts  mademoiselle 
went,  in  her  fine  clothes,  to  her  uncle,  who  was  accus- 
tomed at  this,  the  best  hour  in  the  day,  to  take  his 
walk  on  the  terrace  which  overlooked  the  Brillante, 
where  he  could  listen  to  the  warble  of  the  birds  which 
were  nesting  in  the  coppice,  unafraid  of  either  sports- 
men or  children.  At  such  times  of  waiting  she  never 
joined  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  without  asking  him  some 
ridiculous  question,  in  order  to  draw  the  old  man  into 
a  discussion  which  might  serve  to  amuse  him.  And 
her  reason  was  this,  —  which  will  serve  to  complete 
our  picture  of  this  excellent  woman's  nature:  — 

Mademoiselle  Corinon  regarded  it  as  one  of  her 
duties  to  talk ;  not  that  she  was  talkative,  for  she  had 
unfortunately  too  few  ideas,  and  did  not  know  enough 
phrases  to  converse  readily.  But  she  believed  she  was 
accomplishing  one  of  the  social  duties  enjoined  by 
religion,  which  orders  us  to  make  ourselves  agreeable 
to  our  neighbor.  This  obligation  cost  her  so  much 
that  she  consulted  her  director,  the  Abbe  Couturier, 
upon  the  subject  of  this  honest  but  puerile  civility. 
In  spite  of  the  humble  remark  of  his  penitent,  confess- 
ing the  inward  labor  of  her  mind  in  finding  anything 
to  say,  the  old  priest,  rigid  on  the  point  of  discipline, 
read  her  a  passage  from  Saint-Francois  de  Sales  on 
the  duties  of  women  in  society,  which  dwelt  on  the 

18 


274  An   Old  Maid. 

decent  gayety  of  pious  Christian  women,  who  were 
bound  to  reserve  their  sternness  for  themselves,  and 
to  be  amiable  and  pleasing  in  their  homes,  and  see 
that  their  neighbors  enjoyed  themselves.  Thus,  filled 
with  a  sense  of  duty,  and  wishing,  at  all  costs,  to  obey 
her  director,  who  bade  her  converse  with  amenity,  the 
poor  soul  perspired  in  her  corset  when  the  talk  around 
her  languished,  so  much  did  she  suffer  from  the  effort 
of  emitting  ideas  in  order  to  revive  it.  Under  such 
circumstances  she  would  put  forth  the  silliest  state- 
ments, such  as :  "  No  one  can  be  in  two  places  at  once 
—  unless  it  is  a  little  bird,"  by  which  she  one  day 
roused,  and  not  without  success,  a  discussion  on  the 
ubiquity  of  the  apostles,  which  she  was  unable  to 
comprehend.  Such  efforts  at  conversation  won  her 
the  appellation  of  "that  good  Mademoiselle  Cormon," 
which,  from  the  lips  of  -the  beaux  esprits  of  society, 
meant  that  she  was  as  ignorant  as  a  carp,  and  rather  a 
poor  fool ;  but  many  persons  of  her  own  calibre  took 
the  remark  in  its  literal  sense,  and  answered:  — 

"Yes;  oh,  yes!  Mademoiselle  Cormon  is  an  excel- 
lent woman." 

Sometimes  she  would  put  such  absurd  questions 
(always  for  the  purpose  of  fulfilling  her  duties  to 
society,  and  making  herself  agreeable  to  her  guests) 
that  everybody  burst  out  laughing.  She  asked,  for 
instance,  what  the  government  did  with  the  taxes  they 
were  always  receiving;  and  why  the  Bible  had  not  been 
printed  in  the  days  of  Jesus  Christ,  inasmuch  as  it  was 
written  by  Moses.  Her  mental  powers  were  those  of 
the  English  "country  gentleman"  who,  hearing  con- 
stant mention  of  "posterity'    in  the  House  of  Com- 


An   Old  Maid.  275 

mons,  rose  to  make  the  speech  that  has  since  become 
celebrated:  "Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  hear  much  talk 
in  this  place  about  Posterity.  I  should  be  glad  to 
know  what  that  power  has  ever  done  for  England." 

Under  these  circumstances  the  heroic  Chevalier  de 
Valois  would  bring  to  the  succor  of  the  old  maid  all 
the  powers  of  his  clever  diplomacy,  whenever  he  saw 
the  pitiless  smile  of  the  wiser  heads.  The  old  gentle- 
man, who  loved  to  assist  women,  turned  Mademoiselle 
Conxion's  sayings  into  wit  by  sustaining  them  para- 
doxically, and  he  often  covered  the  retreat  so  well  that 
it  seemed  as  if  the  good  woman  had  said  nothing  silly. 
She  asserted  very  seriously  one  evening  that  she  did 
not  see  any  difference  between  an  ox  and  a  bull.  The 
dear  chevalier  instantly  arrested  the  peals  of  laughter 
by  asserting  that  there  was  only  the  difference  between 
a  sheep  and  a  lamb. 

But  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  served  an  ungrateful 
dame,  for  never  did  Mademoiselle  Cormon  compre- 
hend his  chivalrous  services.  Observing;  that  the  con- 
versation  grew  lively,  she  simply  thought  that  she 
was  not  so  stupid  as  she  felt  she  was,  — the  result  being 
that  she  settled  down  into  her  ignorance  with  some 
complacency;  she  lost  her  timidity,  and  acquired  a 
self-possession  which  gave  to  her  "speeches"  some- 
thing of  the  solemnity  with  which  the  British  enunciate 
their  patriotic  absurdities,  —  the  self-conceit  of  stu- 
pidity, as  it  may  be  called. 

As  she  approached  her  uncle,  on  this  occasion,  with 
a  majestic  step,  she  was  ruminating  over  a  question 
that  might  draw  him  from  a  silence  which  always 
troubled  her,  for  she  feared  he  was  dull. 


276  An   Old  Maid. 

"Uncle,"  she  said,  leaning  on  his  arm  and  clinging 
to  his  side  (this  was  one  of  her  fictions;  for  she  said 
to  herself,  "If  I  had  a  husband  I  should  do  just  so"), 
—  "uncle,  if  everything  here  below  happens  accord- 
ing to  the  will  of  God,  there  must  be  a  reason  for 
everything." 

"Certainly,"  replied  the  abbe,  gravely.  The  worthy 
man,  who  cherished  his  niece,  always  allowed  her  to 
tear  him  from  his  meditations  with  angelic  patience. 

"  Then  if  I  remain  unmarried,  —  supposing  that  I 
do,  — God  wills  it?" 

"Yes,  my  child,"  replied  the  abbe. 

"And  yet,  as  nothing  prevents  me  from  marrying 
to-morrow  if  I  choose,  His  will  can  be  destroyed  by 
mine  r 

"That  would  be  true  if  we  knew  what  was  really  the 
will  of  God,"  replied  the  former  prior  of  the  Sorbonne. 
"Observe,  my  daughter,  that  you  put  in  an  if." 

The  poor  woman,  who  expected  to  draw  her  uncle 
into  a  matrimonial  discussion  by  an  argument  ad 
omnipotentem,  was  stupefied;  but  persons  of  obtuse 
mind  have  the  terrible  logic  of  children,  which  consists 
in  turning  from  answer  to  question,  —  a  logic  that  is 
frequently  embarrassing. 

"But,  uncle,  God  did  not  make  women  intending 
them  not  to  marry;  otherwise  they  ought  all  to  stay 
unmarried;  if  not,  they  ought  all  to  marry.  There's 
great  injustice  in  the  distribution  of  parts." 

"Daughter,"  said  the  worthy  abbe,  "you  are  blam- 
ing the  Church,  which  declares  celibacy  to  be  the 
better  way  to  God." 

"But  if  the  Church  is  right,  and  all  the  world  were 


An   Old  Maid.  277 

good  Catholics,  would  n't  the  human  race  come  to  an 
end,  uncle? " 

"You* have  too  much  mind,  Rose;  you  don't  need  so 
much  to  be  happy." 

That  remark  brought  a  smile  of  satisfaction  to  the 
lips  of  the  poor  woman,  and  confirmed  her  in  the  good 
opinion  she  was  beginning  to  acquire  about  herself. 
That  is  how  the  world,  our  friends,  and  our  enemies 
are  the  accomplices  of  our  defects! 

At  this  moment  the  conversation  was  interrupted  by 
the  successive  arrival  of  the  guests.  On  these  cere- 
monial days,  friendly  familiarities  were  exchanged 
between  the  servants  of  the  house  and  the  company. 
Mariette  remarked  to  the  chief -justice  as  he  passed 
the  kitchen :  — 

"Ah,  Monsieur  du  Ronceret,  I've  cooked  the  cauli- 
flowers au  gratin  expressly  for  you,  for  mademoiselle 
knows  how  you  like  them;  and  she  said  to  me:  i  Now 
don't  forget  them,  Mariette,  for  Monsieur  du  Ronceret 


is  coming. 


"That  good  Mademoiselle  Cormon! '  ejaculated  the 
chief  legal  authority  of  the  town.  "Mariette,  did  you 
steep  them  in  gravy  instead  of  soup-stock?  it  is  much 
richer." 

The  chief-justice  was  not  above  entering  the  cham- 
ber of  council  where  Mariette  held  court;  he  cast  the 
eye  of  a  gastronome  around  it,  and  offered  the  advice 
of  a  past  master  in  cookery. 

kW  Good-day,  madame,"  said  Josette  to  Madame 
Granson,  who  courted  the  maid.  "Mademoiselle  has 
thought  of  you,  and  there  's  fish  for  dinner." 

As   for   the   Chevalier   de  Valois,  he  remarked  to 


278  An   Old  Maid. 

Mariette,  in  the  easy  tone  of  a  great  seigneur  who  con- 
descends to  be  familiar:  — 

"■Well,  my  dear  cordon-bleu,  to  whom  J  should  give 
the  cross  of  the  Legion  of  honor,  is  there  some  little 
dainty  for  which  I  had  better  reserve  myself?" 

"Yes,  yes,  Monsieur  de  Valois,  — a  hare  sent  from 
Prebaudet;  weighs  fourteen  pounds." 

Du  Bousquier  was  not  invited.  Mademoiselle  Cor- 
mon,  faithful  to  the  system  which  we  know  of,  treated 
that  fifty-year-old  suitor  extremely  ill,  although  she 
felt  inexplicable  sentiments  toward  him  in  the  depths 
of  her  heart.  She  had  refused  him ;  yet  at  times  she 
repented;  and  a  presentiment  that  she  should  yet  marry 
him,  together  with  a  terror  at  the  idea  which  prevented 
her  from  wishing  for  the  marriage,  assailed  her.  Her 
mind,  stimulated  by  these  feelings,  was  much  occupied 
by  du  Bousquier.  Without  being  aware  of  it,  she  was 
influenced  by  the  herculean  form  of  the  republican. 
Madame  Granson  and  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  although 
they  could  not  explain  to  themselves  Mademoiselle  Cor- 
mon's  inconsistencies,  had  detected  her  naive  glances 
in  that  direction,  the  meaning  of  which  seemed  clear 
enough  to  make  them  both  resolve  to  ruin  the  hopes 
of  the  already  rejected  purveyor,  —  hopes  which  it  was 
evident  he  still  indulged. 

Two  guests,  whose  functions  excused  them,  kept  the 
dinner  waiting.  One  was  Monsieur  du  Coudrai,  the 
recorder  of  mortgages;  the  other  Monsieur  Choisnel, 
former  bailiff  to  the  house  of  Esgrignon,  and  now  the 
notary  of  the  upper  aristocracy,  by  whom  he  wras  re- 
ceived with  a  distinction  due  to  his  virtues;  he  was 
also  a  man  of  considerable  wealth.     When  the  two 


An   Old  Maid.  279 

belated  guests  arrived,  Jacquelin  said  to  them  as  he 
saw  them  about  to  enter  the  salon :  — 

"They  are  all  in  the  garden." 

No  doubt  the  assembled  stomachs  were  impatient; 
for  on  the  appearance  of  the  recorder  of  mortgages  — 
who  had  no  defect  except  that  of  having  married  for 
her  money  an  intolerable  old  woman,  and  of  perpetrat- 
ing endless  puns,  at  which  he  was  the  first  to  laugh  — 
the  gentle  murmur  by  which  such  late-comers  are  wel- 
comed arose.  "While  awaiting  the  official  announce- 
ment of  dinner,  the  company  were  sauntering  on 
the  terrace  above  the  river,  and  gazing  at  the  water- 
plants,  the  mosaic  of  the  currents,  and  the  various 
pretty  details  of  the  houses  clustering  across  the  river, 
their  old  wooden  galleries,  their  mouldering  window- 
frames,  their  little  gardens  where  clothes  were  drying, 
the  cabinet-maker's  shop,  —  in  short,  the  many  details 
of  a  small  community  to  which  the  vicinity  of  a  river, 
a  weeping  willow,  flowers,  rose-bushes,  added  a  cer- 
tain grace,  making  the  scene  quite  worthy  of  a  land- 
scape painter. 

The  chevalier  studied  all  faces,  for  he  knew  that  his 
firebrand  had  been  very  successfully  introduced  into 
the  chief  houses  of  the  place.  But  no  one  as  vet 
referred  openly  to  the  great  news  of  Suzanne  and  du 
Bousquier.  Provincials  possess  in  the  highest  degree 
the  art  of  distilling  gossip;  the  right  moment  for 
openly  discussing  this  strange  affair  had  not  arrived ; 
it  was  first  necessary  that  all  present  should  put  them- 
selves on  record.  So  the  whispers  went  round  from 
ear  to  ear :  — 

"You  have  heard?" 


280  An   Old  Maid. 

"Yes." 

"Du  Bousqnier?  " 

"And  that  handsome  Suzanne." 

"Does  Mademoiselle  Cormon  know  of  it?" 

"No." 

"Ha!" 

This  was  the  piano  of  the  scandal;  the  rinforzando 
would  break  forth  as  soon  as  the  first  course  had  been 
removed.  Suddenly  Monsieur  de  Valois's  eyes  lighted 
on  Madame  Granson,  arrayed  in  her  green  hat  with 
bunches  of  auriculas,  and  beaming  with  evident  joy. 
Was  it  merely  the  joy  of  opening  the  concert?  Though 
such  a  piece  of  news  was  like  a  gold  mine  to  work  in 
the  monotonous  lives  of  these  personages,  the  observ- 
ant and  distrustful  chevalier  thought  he  recognized  in 
the  worthy  woman  a  far  more  extended  sentiment; 
namely,  the  joy  caused  by  the  triumph  of  self-interest. 
Instantly  he  turned  to  examine  Athanase,  and  detected 
him  in  the  significant  silence  of  deep  meditation. 
Presently,  a  look  cast  by  the  young  man  on  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  carried  to  the  soul  of  the  chevalier  a 
sudden  gleam.  That  momentary  flash  of  lightning 
enabled  him  to  read  the  past. 

"Ha!  the  devil!  "  he  said  to  himself;  "what  a  check- 
mate I  'm  exposed  to!  " 

Monsieur  de  Valois  now  approached  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  and  offered  his  arm.  The  old  maid's  feeling 
to  the  chevalier  was  that  of  respectful  consideration; 
and  certainly  his  name,  together  with  the  position  he 
occupied  among  the  aristocratic  constellations  of  the 
department,  made  him  the  most  brilliant  ornament  of 
her  salon.     In  her  inmost  mind  Mademoiselle  Cormon 


An   Old  Maid.  281 

had  wished  for  the  last  dozen  years  to  become  Madame 
de  Valois.  That  Dame  was  like  the  branch  of  a  tree, 
to  which  the  ideas  which  swarmed  in  her  mind  about 
rank,  nobility,  and  the  external  qualities  of  a  husband 
had  fastened.  But,  though  the  Chevalier  de  Valois 
was  the  man  chosen  by  her  heart,  and  mind,  and 
ambition,  that  elderly  ruin,  combed  and  curled  like 
a  little  Saint-John  in  a  procession,  alarmed  Mademoi- 
selle Cormon.  She  saw  the  gentleman  in  him,  but  she 
could  not  see  a  husband.  The  indifference  which  the 
chevalier  affected  as  to  marriage,  above  all,  the  appar- 
ent purity  of  his  morals  in  a  house  which  abounded  in 
grisettes,  did  singular  harm  in  her  mind  to  Monsieur 
de  Valois  against  his  expectations.  The  worthy  man, 
who  showed  such  judgment  in  the  matter  of  his  annuity, 
was  at  fault  here.  Without  being  herself  aware  of  it, 
the  thoughts  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon  on  the  too 
virtuous  chevalier  might  be  translated  thus :  — 
"What  a  pity  that  he  is  n't  a  trifle  dissipated!  " 
Observers  of  the  human  heart  have  remarked  the 
leaning  of  pious  women  toward  scamps ;  some  have  ex- 
pressed surprise  at  this  taste,  considering  it  opposed  to 
Christian  virtue.  But,  in  the  first  place,  what  nobler 
destiny  can  you  offer  to  a  virtuous  woman  than  to 
purify,  like  charcoal,  the  muddy  waters  of  vice  ?  How 
is  it  some  observers  fail  to  see  that  these  noble  crea- 
tures, obliged  by  the  sternness  of  their  own  principles 
never  to  infringe  on  conjugal  fidelity,  must  naturally 
desire  a  husband  of  wider  practical  experience  than 
their  own?  The  scamps  of  social  life  are  great  men  in 
love.  Thus  the  poor  woman  groaned  in  spirit  at  find- 
ing her  chosen  vessel  parted  into  two   pieces.     God 


282  An   Old  Maid. 

alone  could  solder  together  a  Chevalier  de  Valois  and 
a  du  Bousquier. 

In  order  to  explain  the  importance  of  the  few  words 
which  the  chevalier  and  Mademoiselle  Cormon  are 
about  to  say  to  each  other,  it  is  necessary  to  reveal 
two  serious  matters  which  agitated  the  town,  and  about 
which  opinions  were  divided;  besides,  du  Bousquier 
was  mysteriously  connected  with  them. 

One  concerns  the  rector  of  Alencon,  who  had  for- 
merly taken  the  constitutional  oath,  and  who  was  now 
conquering  the  repugnance  of  the  Catholics  by  a  dis- 
play of  the  highest  virtues.  He  was  Cheverus  on  a 
small  scale,  and  became  in  time  so  fully  appreciated 
that  when  he  died  the  whole  town  mourned  him. 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  and  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  be- 
longed to  that  "little  Church,"  sublime  in  its  ortho- 
doxy, which  was  to  the  court  of  Rome  what  the  Ultras 
were  to  be  to  Louis  XVIII.  The  abbe,  more  espe- 
cially, refused  to  recognize  a  Church  which  had  com- 
promised with  the  constitutionals.  The  rector  was 
therefore  not  received  in  the  Cormon  household,  whose 
sympathies  were  all  given  to  the  curate  of  Saint- 
Leonard,  the  aristocratic  parish  of  Alenqon.  Du 
Bousquier,  that  fanatic  liberal  now  concealed  under 
the  skin  of  a  royalist,  knowing  how  necessary  rallying 
points  are  to  all  discontents  (which  are  really  at  the 
bottom  of  all  oppositions),  had  drawn  the  sympathies 
of  the  middle  classes  around  the  rector.  So  much 
for  the  first  case ;  the  second  was  this :  — 

Under  the  secret  inspiration  of  du  Bousquier  the 
idea  of  building  a  theatre  had  dawned  on  Alencon. 
The   henchmen   of   the   purveyor  did  not  know  their 


An   Old  Maid.  283 

Mohammed;  and  they  thought  they  were  ardent  in 
carrying  out  their  own  conception.  Athanase  Granson 
was  one  of  the  warmest  partisans  for  the  theatre ;  and 
of  late  he  had  urged  at  the  mayor's  office  a  cause  which 
all  the  other  young  clerks  had  eagerly  adopted. 

The  chevalier,  as  we  have  said,  offered  his  arm  to 
the  old  maid  for  a  turn  on  the  terrace.  She  accepted 
it,  not  without  thanking  him  by  a  happy  look  for  this 
attention,  to  which  the  chevalier  replied  by  motioning 
toward  Athanase  with  a  meaning  eye. 

" Mademoiselle,"  he  began,  "you  have  so  much  sense 
and  judgment  in  social  proprieties,  and  also,  you  are 
connected  with  that  young  man  by  certain  ties  —  " 

"Distant  ones,"  she  said,  interrupting  him. 

"Ought  you  not,"  he  continued,  "to  use  the  influence 
you  have  over  his  mother  and  over  himself  by  saving 
him  from  perdition?  He  is  not  very  religious,  as  you 
know;  indeed  he  approves  of  the  rector;  but  that  is 
not  all;  there  is  something  far  more  serious;  isn't 
he  throwing  himself  headlong  into  an  opposition  with- 
out considering  what  influence  his  present  conduct 
may  exert  upon  his  future?  He  is  working  for  the 
construction  of  a  theatre.  In  this  affair  he  is  simply 
the  dupe  of  that  disguised  republican  du  Bousquier  —  " 

"Good  gracious!  Monsieur  cle  Valois,"  she  replied; 
"his  mother  is  always  telling  me  he  has  so  much  mind, 
and  yet  he  can't  say  two  words;  he  stands  planted 
before  me  as  mum  as  a  post  —  " 

"Which  does  n't  think  at  all!  "  cried  the  recorder  of 
mortgages.  "I  caught  your  words  on  the  fly.  I  pre- 
sent my  compliments  to  Monsieur  de  Valois,"  he 
added,  bowing  to  that  gentleman  with  much  emphasis. 


284  An   Old  Maid. 

The  chevalier  returned  the  salutation  stiffly,  and 
drew  Mademoiselle  Cormon  toward  some  flower-pots  at 
a  little  distance,  in  order  to  show  the  interrupter  that 
he  did  not  choose  to  be  spied  upon. 

"How  is  it  possible,"  he  continued,  lowering  his 
voice,  and  leaning  toward  Mademoiselle  Cormon' s  ear, 
"that  a  young  man  brought  up  in  those  detestable 
lyceums  should  have  ideas?  Only  sound  morals  and 
noble  habits  will  ever  produce  great  ideas  and  a  true 
love.  It  is  easy  to  see  by  a  mere  look  at  him  that  the 
poor  lad  is  liable  to  be  imbecile,  and  come,  perhaps, 
to  some  sad  end.     See  how  pale  and  haggard  he  is !  " 

"His  mother  declares  he  works  too  hard,"  replied 
the  old  maid,  innocently.  "He  sits  up  late,  and  for 
what?  reading  books  and  writing!  What  business 
ought  to  require  a  young  man  to  write  at  night?  " 

"It  exhausts  him,"  replied  the  chevalier,  trying  to 
bring  the  old  maid's  thoughts  back  to  the  ground 
where  he  hoped  to  inspire  her  with  horror  for  her 
youthful  lover.  "The  morals  of  those  Imperial  ly- 
ceums are  really  shocking." 

"Oh,  yes!"  said  the  ingenuous  creature.  "They 
march  the  pupils  about  with  drums  at  their  head. 
The  masters  have  no  more  religion  than  pagans.  And 
they  put  the  poor  lads  in  uniform,  as  if  they  were 
troops.     What  ideas !  " 

"And  behold  the  product!  "  said  the  chevalier, 
motioning  to  Athanase.  "In  my  day,  young  men 
were  not  so  shy  of  looking  at  a  pretty  woman.  As 
for  him,  he  drops  his  eyes  whenever  he  sees  you. 
That  young  man  frightens  me  because  I  am  really 
interested  in  him.     Tell  him  not  to  intrigue  with  the 


An   Old  Maid.  285 

Bonapartists,  as  he  is  now  doing  about  that  theatre. 
When  all  these  petty  folks  cease  to  ask  for  it  insarrec- 
tionally,  —  which  to  my  mind  is  the  synonym  of 
constitutionally,  —  the  government  will  build  it.  Be- 
sides which,  tell  his  mother  to  keep  an  eye  on  him." 

"Oh,  I  'm  sure  she  will  prevent  him  from  seeing 
those  half-pay,  questionable  people.  I  '11  talk  to  her," 
said  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  "for  he  might  lose  his 
place  in  the  mayor's  office;  and  then  what  would  he 
and  his  mother  have  to  live  on?  It  makes  me 
shudder." 

As  Monsieur  de  Talleyrand  said  of  his  wife,  so  the 
chevalier  said  to  himself,  looking  at  Mademoiselle 
Cormon :  — 

"Find  me  another  as  stupid!  Good  powers!  isn't 
virtue  which  drives  out  intellect  vice?  But  what  an 
adorable  wife  for  a  man  of  my  age!  What  princi- 
ples !  what  ignorance !  " 

Remember  that  this  monologue,  addressed  to  the 
Princess  Goritza,  was  mentally  uttered  while  he  took  a 
pinch  of  snuff. 

Madame  Granson  had  divined  that  the  chevalier  was 
talking  about  Athanase.  Eager  to  know  the  result  of 
the  conversation,  she  followed  Mademoiselle  Cormon, 
who  was  now  approaching  the  young  man  with  much 
dignity.  .  But  at  this  moment  Jacquelin  appeared  to 
announce  that  mademoiselle  was  served.  The  old  maid 
gave  a  glance  of  appeal  to  the  chevalier;  but  the 
gallant  recorder  of  mortgages,  who  was  beginning  to 
see  in  the  manners  of  that  gentleman  the  barrier  which 
the  provincial  nobles  were  setting  up  about  this  time 
between   themselves    and  the  bourgeoisie,    made    the 


286  An   Old  Maid. 

most  of  his  chance  to  cut  out  Monsieur  de  Valois. 
He  was  close  to  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  and  promptly 
offered  his  arm,  which  she  found  herself  compelled  to 
accept.  The  chevalier  then  darted,  out  of  policy,  upon 
Madame  Granson. 

"Mademoiselle  Cormon,  my  dear  lacty,"  he  said  to 
her,  walking  slowly  after  all  the  other  guests,  "feels 
the  liveliest  interest  in  your  dear  Athanase ;  but  I  fear 
it  will  vanish  through  his  own  fault.  He  is  irreligious 
and  liberal;  he  is  agitating  this  matter  of  the  theatre; 
he  frequents  the  Bonapartists ;  he  takes  the  side  of  that 
rector.  Such  conduct  may  make  him  lose  his  place  in 
the  mayor's  office.  You  know  with  what  care  the 
government  is  beginning  to  weed  out  such  opinions. 
If  your  dear  Athanase  loses  his^  place,  where  can  he 
find  other  employment?  I  advise  him  not  to  get  him- 
self in  bad  odor  with  the  administration." 

"Monsieur  le  Chevalier,"  said  the  poor  frightened 
mother,  "how  grateful  I  am  to  you!  You  are  right: 
my  son  is  the  tool  of  a  bad  set  of  people;  I  shall 
enlighten  him." 

The  chevalier  had  long  since  fathomed  the  nature  of 
Athanase,  and  recognized  in  it  that  unyielding  element 
of  republican  convictions  to  which  in  his  youth  a  young 
man  is  willing  to  sacrifice  everything,  carried  away 
by  the  word  "liberty,"  so  ill-defined  and  so  little 
understood,  but  which  to  persons  disdained  by  fate  is 
a  banner  of  revolt ;  and  to  such,  revolt  is  vengeance. 
Athanase  would  certainly  persist  in  that  faith,  for  his 
opinions  were  woven  in  with  his  artistic  sorrows,  with 
his  bitter  contemplation  of  the  social  state.  He  was 
ignorant  of  the  fact  that  at  thirty-six  years  of  age,  — 


An  Old  Maid.  287 

the  period  of  life  when  a  man  has  judged  men  and 
social  interests  and  relations,  —  the  opinions  for  which 
he  was  ready  to  sacrifice  his  future  would  be  modified 
in  him,  as  they  are  in  all  men  of  real  superiority.  To 
remain  faithful  to  the  Left  side  of  Alencon  was  to 
gain  the  aversion  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon.  There, 
indeed,  the  chevalier  saw  true. 

Thus  we  see  that  this  society,  so  peaceful  in  appear- 
ance, was  internally  as  agitated  as  any  diplomatic 
circle,  where  craft,  ability,  and  passions  group  them- 
selves around  the  grave  questions  of  an  empire.  The 
guests  were  now  seated  at  the  table  laden  with  the 
first  course,  which  they  ate  as  provincials  eat,  without 
shame  at  possessing  a  good  appetite,  and  not  as  in 
Paris,  where  it  seems  as  if  jaws  gnashed  under  sump- 
tuary laws,  which  made  it  their  business  to  contra- 
dict the  laws  of  anatomy.  In  Paris  people  eat  with 
their  teeth,  and  trifle  with  their  pleasure;  in  the  prov- 
inces things  are  clone  naturally,  and  interest  is  perhaps 
rather  too  much  concentrated  on  the  grand  and  univer- 
sal means  of  existence  to  which  God  has  condemned 
his  creatures. 

It  was  at  the  end  of  the  first  course  that  Mademoi- 
selle Cormon  made  the  most  celebrated  of  her 
"speeches;"  it  was  talked  about  for  fully  two  years, 
and  is  still  told  at  the  gatherings  of  the  lesser  bour- 
geoisie whenever  the  topic  of  her  marriage  comes  up. 

The  conversation,  becoming  lively  as  the  penulti- 
mate entree  was  reached,  had  turned  naturally  on  the 
affair  of  the  theatre  and  the  constitutionally  sworn 
rector.  In  the  first  fervor  of  royalty,  during  the  year 
1816,  those  who  later  were  called  Jesuits  were  all  for 


288  An  Old  Maid. 

the  expulsion  of  the  Abbe  Francois  from  his  parish. 
Du  Bousquier,  suspected  by  Monsieur  cle  Valois  of 
sustaining  the  priest  and  being  at  the  bottom  of  the 
theatre  intrigues,  and  on  whose  back  the  adroit  cheva- 
lier  would  in  any  case  have  put  those  sins  with  his 
customary  cleverness,  was  in  the  dock  with  no  lawyer 
to  defend  him.  Athanase,  the  only  guest  loyal  enough 
to  stand  by  du  Bousquier,  had  not  the  nerve  to  emit 
his  ideas  in  presence  of  these  potentates  of  Alen^on, 
whom  in  his  heart  he  thought  stupid.  None  but  pro- 
vincial youths  now  retain  a  respectful  demeanor  before 
men  of  a  certain  age,  and  dare  neither  to  censure  nor 
contradict  them.  The  talk,  diminished  under  the  effect 
of  certain  delicious  ducks  dressed  with  olives,  was  fall- 
ing flat.  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  feeling  the  necessity  of 
maintaining  it  against  her  own  ducks,  attempted  to  de- 
fend du  Bousquier,  who  was  being  represented  as  a  per- 
nicious fomenter  of  intrigues,  capable  of  any  trickery. 

"As  for  me,"  she  said,  "I  thought  that  Monsieur  du 
Bousquier  cared  chiefly  for  childish  things." 

Under  existing;  circumstances  the  remark  had  enor- 
mous  success.  Mademoiselle  Cormon  obtained  a  great 
triumph;  she  brought  the  nose  of  the  Princess  Goritza 
flat  on  the  table.  The  chevalier,  who  little  expected 
such  an  apt  remark  from  his  Dulcinea,  was  so  amazed 
that  he  could  at  first  find  no  words  to  express  his 
admiration;  he  applauded  noiselessly,  as  they  do  at 
the  Opera,  tapping  his  fingers  together  to  imitate 
applause. 

"She  is  adorably  witty,"  he  said  to  Madame  Gran- 
son.  "I  always  said  that  some  day  she  would  unmask 
her  batteries." 


An   Old  Maid.  289 

"In  private  sbe  is  always  charming,"  replied  the 
widow. 

"In  private,  madarne,  all  women  have  wit,"  returned 
the  chevalier. 

The  Homeric  laugh  thus  raised  having  subsided, 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  asked  the  reason  of  her  success. 
Then  began  the  forte  of  the  gossip.  Du  Bousquier 
was  depicted  as  a  species  of  celibate  Pere  Gigogne,  a 
monster,  who  for  the  last  fifteen  years  had  kept  the 
Foundling  Hospital  supplied.  His  immoral  habits 
were  at  last  revealed!  these  Parisian  saturnalias  were 
the  result  of  them,  etc.,  etc.  Conducted  by  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Valois,  a  most  able  leader  of  an  orchestra  of 
this  kind,  the  opening  of  the  cancan  was  magnificent. 

"I  really  don't  know,"  he  said,  "what  should  hin- 
der a  du  Bousquier  from  marrying  a  Mademoiselle 
Suzanne  What  's-her-narne.  What  is  her  name,  do  you 
know?  Suzette!  Though  I  have  lodgings  at  Madame 
Lardot's,  I  know  her  girls  only  by  sight.  If  this 
Suzette  is  a  tall,  fine,  saucy  girl,  with  gray  eyes,  a 
slim  waist,  and  a  pretty  foot,  whom  I  have  occasionally 
seen,  and  whose  behavior  always  seemed  to  me  ex- 
tremely insolent,  she  is  far  superior  in  manners  to  du 
Bousquier.  Besides,  the  girl  has  the  nobility  of 
beauty ;  from  that  point  of  view  the  marriage  would 
be  a  poor  one  for  her;  she  might  do  better.  You 
know  how  the  Emperor  Joseph  had  the  curiosity  to  see 
the  du  Barry  at  Luciennes.  He  offered  her  his  arm  to 
walk  about,  and  the  poor  thing  was  so  surprised  at  the 
honor  that  she  hesitated  to  accept  it:  '  Beauty  is  ever 
a  queen, '  said  the  Emperor.  And  he,  you  know,  was 
an   Austrian-German,"    added    the   chevalier.      "But 

19 


290  An  Old  Maid. 

I  can  tell  you  that  Germany,  which  is  thought  here 
very  rustic,  is  a  land  of  noble  chivalry  and  fine  man- 
ners, especially  in  Poland  and  Huugary,  where  —  " 

Here  the  chevalier  stopped,  fearing  to  slip  into  some 
allusion  to  his  personal  happiness;  he  took  out  his 
snuff-box,  and  confided  the  rest  of  his  remarks  to  the 
princess,  who  had  smiled  upon  him  for  thirty-six  years 
and  more. 

"That  speech  was  rather  a  delicate  one  for  Louis 
XV.,"  said  du  Ronceret. 

"But  it  was,  I  think,  the  Emperor  Joseph  who  made 
it,  and  not  Louis  XV.,"  remarked  Mademoiselle  Cor- 
mon,   in  a   correcting  tone. 

"Mademoiselle,"  said  the  chevalier,  observing  the 
malicious  glance  exchanged  between  the  judge,  the 
notary,  and  the  recorder,  "Madame  du  Barry  was  the 
Suzanne  of  Louis  XV.,  — a  circumstance  well  known 
to  scamps  like  ourselves,  but  unsuitable  for  the 
knowledge  of  young  ladies.  Your  ignorance  proves 
you  to  be  a  flawless  diamond;  historical  corruptions 
do  not  enter  your  mind." 

The  Abbe  de  Sponde  looked  graciously  at  the  Chev- 
alier de  Valois,  and  nodded  his  head  in  sign  of  his 
laudatory  approbation. 

"Doesn't  mademoiselle  know  history ?  "  asked  the 
recorder  of  mortgages. 

"If  you  mix  up  Louis  XV.  and  this  girl  Suzanne, 
how  am  I  to  know  history?"  replied  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  angelically,  glad  to  see  that  the  dish  of  ducks 
was  empty  at  last,  and  the  conversation  so  ready  to 
revive  that  all  present  laughed  with  their  mouths  full 
at  her  last  remark. 


An  Old  Maid.  291 

"Poor  girl!"  said  the  Abbe  cle  Sponcle.  "Whea  a 
great  misfortune  happens,  charity,  which  is  divine 
love,  and  as  blind  as  pagan  love,  ought  not  to  look 
into  the  causes  of  it.  Niece,  you  are  president  of  the 
Maternity  Society;  you  must  succor  that  poor  girl, 
who  will  now  find  it  difficult  to  marry." 

"Poor  child!  "  ejaculated  Mademoiselle  Cormon. 

"Do  you  suppose  du  Bousquier  would  marry  her?" 
asked  the  judge. 

"If  he  is  an  honorable  man  he  ought  to  do  so,"  said 
Madame  Granson;  "but  really,  to  tell  the  truth,  my 
dos;  has  better  morals  than  he  —  " 

"Azor  is,  however,  a  good  purveyor,"  said  the  re- 
corder of  mortgages,  with  the  air  of  saying  a  witty 
thing. 

At  dessert  du  Bousquier  was  still  the  topic  of  con- 
versation, having  given  rise  to  various  little  jokes 
which  the  wine  rendered  sparkling.  Following  the 
example  of  the  recorder,  each  guest  capped  his  neigh- 
bor's joke  with  another:  Du  Bousquier  was  a  father, 
but  not  a  confessor ;  he  was  father  less ;  he  was  father 
ly;  he  was  not  a  reverend  father;  nor  yet  a  conscript- 
father  — 

"Nor  can  he  be  a  foster-father,"  said  the  Abbe  de 
Sponde,  with  a  gravity  which  stopped  the  laughter. 

"Nor  a  noble  father,"  added  the  chevalier. 

The  Church  and  the  nobility  descended  thus  into  the 
arena  of  puns,  without,  however,  losing  their  dignity. 

"Hush!  "  exclaimed  the  recorder  of  mort^a^es.  "I 
hear  the  creaking  of  du  Bousquier' s  boots." 

It  usually  happens  that  a  man  is  ignorant  of  rumors 
that  are  afloat  about  him.     A  whole  town  may  be  talk- 


292  An  Old  Maid. 

ing  of  his  affairs;  may  calumniate  and  decry  him,  but 
if  he  has  no  good  friends,  he  will  know  nothing  about 
it.  Now  the  innocent  du  Bousquier  was  superb  in  his 
ignorance.  No  one  had  told  him  as  yet  of  Suzanne's 
revelations;  he  therefore  appeared  very  jaunty  and 
slightly  conceited  when  the  company,  leaving  the 
dining-room,  returned  to  the  salon  for  their  coffee; 
several  other  guests  had  meantime  assembled  for  the 
evening.  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  from  a  sense  of 
shamefacedness,  dared  not  look  at  the  terrible  seducer. 
She  seized  upon  Athanase,  and  began  to  lecture  him 
with  the  queerest  platitudes  about  royalist  politics  and 
religious  morality.  Not  possessing,  like  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Valois,  a  snuff-box  adorned  with  a  princess, 
by  the  help  of  which  he  could  stand  this  torrent  of 
silliness,  the  poor  poet  listened  to  the  words  of  her 
whom  he  loved  with  a  stupid  air,  gazing,  meanwhile, 
at  her  enormous  bust,  which  held  itself  before  him  in 
that  still  repose  which  is  the  attribute  of  all  great 
masses.  His  love  produced  in  him  a  sort  of  intoxica- 
tion which  changed  the  shrill  little  voice  of  the  old 
maid  into  a  soft  murmur,  and  her  flat  remarks  into 
witty  speeches.  Love  is  a  maker  of  false  coin,  con- 
tinually changing  copper  pennies  into  gold-pieces, 
and  sometimes  turning  its  real  gold  into  copper. 

"Well,  Athanase,  will  you  promise  me?': 

This  final  sentence  struck  the  ear  of  the  absorbed 
young  man  like  one  of  those  noises  which  wake  us 
with  a  bound. 

"What,  mademoiselle?"  he  asked. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  rose  hastily,  and  looked  at  du 
Bousquier,   who  at  that  moment  resembled  the  stout 


An   Old  Maid.  293 

god  of  Fable  which  the  Republic  stamped  upon  her 
coins.  She  walked  up  to  Madame  Granson,  and  said 
in  her  ear :  — 

"My  dear  friend,  your  son  is  an  idiot.  That  lyceum 
has  ruined  him,"  she  added,  remembering  the  insist- 
ence with  which  the  chevalier  had  spoken  of  the  evils 
of  education  in  such  schools. 

What  a  catastrophe!  Unknown  to  himself,  the 
luckless  Athanase  had  had  an  occasion  to  fling  an 
ember  of  his  own  fire  upon  the  pile  of  brush  gathered 
in  the  heart  of  the  old  maid.  Had  he  listened  to  her, 
he  might  have  made  her,  then  and  there,  perceive  his 
passion;  for,  in  the  agitated  state  of  Mademoiselle 
Cormon's  mind,  a  single  word  would  have  sufficed. 
But  that  stupid  absorption  in  his  own  sentiments, 
which  characterizes  young  and  true  love,  had  ruined 
him,  as  a  child  full  of  life  sometimes  kills  itself  out 
of  ignorance. 

"What  have  you  been  saying  to  Mademoiselle  Cor- 
mon  ?  "  demanded  his  mother. 

"Nothing." 

"Nothing;  well,  I  can  explain  that,"  she  thought 
to  herself,  putting  off  till  the  next  day  all  further  re- 
flection on  the  matter,  and  attaching  but  little  impor- 
tance to  Mademoiselle  Cormon's  words;  for  she  fully 
believed  that  du  Bousquier  was  forever  lost  in  the  old 
maid's  esteem  after  the  revelation  of  that  evening. 

Soon  the  four  tables  were  filled  with  their  sixteen 
players.  Four  persons  were  playing  piquet, —  an  expen- 
sive game,  at  which  the  most  money  was  lost.  Mon- 
sieur Choisnel,  the  procureur-du-roi,  and  two  ladies 
went  into  the  boudoir  for  a  game    at    backgammon. 


u 
If 


294  An   Old  Maid. 

The  glass  lustres  were  lighted ;  and  then  the  flower  of 
Mademoiselle  Cormon's  company  gathered  before  the 
fireplace,  on  sofas,  and  around  the  tables,  and  each 
couple  said  to  her  as  they  arrived,  — 

So  you  are  going  to-morrow  to  Prebaudet?" 
'Yes,  I  really  must,"  she  replied. 

On  this  occasion  the  mistress  of  the  house  appeared 
preoccupied.  Madame  Granson  was  the  first  to  per- 
ceive the  quite  unnatural  state  of  the  old  maid's  mind, 
—  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was  thinking! 

"What  are  you  thinking  of,  cousin?"  she  said  at 
last,  finding  her  seated  in  the  boudoir. 

"I  am  thinking,"  she  replied,  "of  that  poor  girl. 
As  the  president  of  the  Maternity  Society,  I  will  give 
you  fifty  francs  for  her." 

"Fifty  francs!  "  cried  Madame  Granson.  "But  you 
have  never  given  as  much  as  that." 

"But,  my  dear  cousin,  it  is  so  natural  to  have 
children." 

That  immoral  speech  coming  from  the  heart  of  the 
old  maid  staggered  the  treasurer  of  the  Maternity, 
Society.  Du  Bousquier  had  evidently  advanced  in 
the  estimation  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon. 

"Upon  my  word,"  said  Madame  Granson,  "du 
Bousquier  is  not  only  a  monster,  he  is  a  villain.  When 
a  man  has  done  a  wrong  like  that,  he  ought  to  pay  the 
indemnity.  Is  n't  it  his  place  rather  than  ours  to  look 
after  the  girl  ?  —  who,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  seems  to 
me  rather  questionable;  there  are  plenty  of  better  men 
in  Alengon  than  that  cynic  du  Bousquier.  A  girl 
must  be  depraved,  indeed,  to  go  after  him." 

"Cynic!     Your  son  teaches  you  to  talk  Latin,  my 


An   Old  Maid.  295 

clear,  which  is  wholly  incomprehensible.  Certainly  I 
don't  wish  to  excuse  Monsieur  du  Bousquier ;  but  pray 
explain  to  me  why  a  woman  is  depraved  because  she 
prefers  one  man  to  another." 

"My  dear  cousin,  suppose  you  married  my  son 
Athanase ;  nothing  could  be  more  natural.  He  is  young 
and  handsome,  full  of  promise,  and  he  will  be  the 
glory  of  Alencon;  and  yet  everybody  will  exclaim 
against  you:  evil  tongues  will  say  all  sorts  of  things; 
jealous  women  will  accuse  you  of  depravity,  —  but 
what  will  that  matter?  you  will  be  loved,  and  loved 
truly.  If  Athanase  seemed  to  you  an  idiot,  my  dear, 
it  is  that  he  has  too  many  ideas;  extremes  meet. 
He  lives  the  life  of  a  girl  of  fifteen ;  he  has  never  wal- 
lowed in  the  impurities  of  Paris,  not  he!  Well,  change 
the  terms,  as  my  poor  husband  used  to  say ;  it  is  the 
same  thing  with  du  Bousquier  in  connection  with 
Suzanne.  You  would  be  calumniated ;  but  in  the  case 
of  du  Bousquier,  the  charge  would  be  true.  Don't 
you  understand  me?  " 

"No  more  than  if  you  were  talking  Greek,"  replied 
Mademoiselle  Cormon,  who  opened  her  eyes  wide,  and 
strained  all  the  forces  of  her  intellect. 

"Well,  cousin,  if  I  must  dot  all  the  ?'s,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  Suzanne  to  love  du  Bousquier.  And  if  the 
heart  counts  for  nothing  in  this  affair  —  " 

"But,  cousin,  what  do  people  love  with  if  not  their 
hearts  ?  " 

Here  Madame  Granson  said  to  herself,  as  the  chev- 
alier had  previously  thought:  "My  poor  cousin  is 
altogether  too  innocent;  such  stupidity  passes  all 
bounds!  —  Dear    child,"    she    continued    aloud,    "it 


296  An   Old  Maid. 

seems  to  me  that  children  are  not  conceived  by  the 
spirit  only." 

"Why,  yes,  my  dear;  the  Holy  Virgin  herself —  " 
"But,  my  love,  du  Bousquier  is  n't  the  Holy  Ghost!  " 
"True,"  said  the  old  maid;  "he  is  a  man!  —  a  man 
whose    personal    appearance    makes    him    dangerous 
enough  for  his  friends  to  advise  him  to  marry." 

"You  could  yourself  bring  about  that  result,  cousin." 
"How  so?  "  said  the  old  maid,  with  the  meekness  of 
Christian  charity. 

"By  not  receiving  him  in  your  house  until  he  mar- 
ries. You  owe  it  to  good  morals  and  to  religion  to 
manifest  under  such  circumstances  an  exemplary 
displeasure." 

"On  my  return  from  Prebaudet  we  will  talk  further 
of  this,  my  dear  Madame  Granson.  I  will  consult  my 
uncle  and  the  Abba  Couturier,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Cormon,  returning  to  the  salon,  where  the  animation 
was  now  at  its  height. 

The  lights,  the  groups  of  women  in  their  best 
clothes,  the  solemn  tone,  the  dignified  air  of  the 
assembly,  made  Mademoiselle  Cormon  not  a  little  proud 
of  her  company.  To  many  persons  nothing  better 
could  be  seen  in  Paris  in  the  highest  society. 

At  this  moment  du  Bousquier,  who  was  playing  whist 
with  the  chevalier  and  two  old  ladies,  —  Madame  du 
Couclrai  and  Madame  du  Ronceret,  —  was  the  object 
of  deep  but  silent  curiosity.  A  few  young  women 
arrived,  who,  under  pretext  of  watching  the  game, 
gazed  fixedly  at  him  in  so  singular  a  manner,  though 
slyly,  that  the  old  bachelor  began  to  think  that  there 
must  be  some  deficiency  in  his  toilet. 


An   Old  Maid.  297 

"Can  my  false  front  be  crooked?  "  he  asked  himself, 
seized  by  one  of  those  anxieties  which  beset  old 
bachelors. 

He  took  advantage  of  a  lost  trick,  which  ended  a 
seventh  rubber,  to  rise  and  leave  the  table. 

"I  can't  touch  a  card  without  losing,"  he  said.  "I 
am  decidedly  too  unlucky." 

"But  you  are  lucky  in  other  ways,"  said  the  cheva- 
lier, giving  him  a  sly  look. 

That  speech  naturally  made  the  rounds  of  the 
salon,  where  every  one  exclaimed  on  the  exquisite 
taste  of  the  chevalier,  the  Prince  de  Talleyrand  of 
the  province. 

"There  's  no  one  like  Monsieur  de  Valois  for  such 
wit." 

Du  Bousquier  went  to  look  at  himself  in  a  little  ob- 
long mirror,  placed  above  the  "Deserter,"  but  he  saw 
nothing  strange  in  his  appearance. 

After  innumerable  repetitions  of  the  same  text, 
varied  in  all  keys,  the  departure  of  the  company  took 
place  about  ten  o'clock,  through  the  long  antechamber, 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  conducting  certain  of  her  favor- 
ite guests  to  the  portico.  There  the  groups  parted: 
some  followed  the  Bretagne  road  toward  the  chateau ; 
the  others  went  in  the  direction  of  the  river  Sarthe. 
Then  began  the  usual  conversation,  which  for  twenty 
years  had  echoed  at  that  hour  through  this  particu- 
lar street  of  Alencon.     It  was  invariably:  — 

"Mademoiselle  Cormon  looked  very  well  to-night." 

"Matiemoiselle  Cormon?  why,  I  thought  her  rather 
strange." 

"How  that  poor  abbe  fails!     Did  you  notice  that 


298  An   Old  Maid. 

he  slept?  He  does  not  know  what  cards  be  bolds;  be 
is  getting  very  absent-minded." 

"We  sball  soon  bave  tbe  grief  of  losing  him." 

"What  a  fine  night!  It  will  be  a  fine  day  to- 
morrow. " 

"Good  weather  for  the  apple-blossoms. 

"You  beat  us;  but  when  you  play  with  Monsieur  de 
Valois  you  never  do  otherwise." 

"How  much  did  he  win?  " 

"Well,  to-night,  three  or  four  francs;  he  never 
loses." 

"True;  and  don't  you  know  there  are  three  hundred 
and  sixty-five  days  in  a  year?  At  that  price  his  gains 
are  the  value  of  a  farm." 

"Ah!  what  hands  we  had  to-night!  " 

"Here  you  are  at  home,  monsieur  and  madame;  how 
lucky  you  are,  while  we  have  half  the  town  to  cross !  " 

"I  don't  pity  you;  you  could  afford  a  carriage,  and 
dispense  with  the  fatigue  of  going  on  foot." 

"Ah,  monsieur!  we  have  a  daughter  to  marry,  which 
takes  off  one  wheel,  and  the  support  of  our  son  in 
Paris  carries  off  another." 

"You  persist  in  making  a  magistrate  of  him?  " 

"What  else  can  be  done  with  a  young  man?  Be- 
sides, there  's  no  shame  in  serving  the  king." 

Sometimes  a  discussion  on  ciders  and  flax,  always 
couched  in  the  same  terms,  and  returning  at  the  same 
time  of  year,  was  continued  on  the  homeward  way. 
If  any  observer  of  human  customs  had  lived  in  this 
street,  he  would  have  known  the  months  and  seasons  by 
simply  overhearing  the  conversations. 

On  this  occasion  it  was  exclusively  jocose;  for  du 


An   Old  Maid.  299 

Bousquier,  who  chanced  to  march  alone  in  front  of 
the  groups,  was  humming  the  well-known  air,  —  little 
thinking  of  its  appropriateness, — "Tender  woman! 
hear  the  warble  of  the  birds,"  etc.  To  some,  du 
Bousquier  was  a  strong  man  and  a  misjudged  man. 
Ever  since  he  had  been  confirmed  in  his  present  office 
by  a  royal  decree,  Monsieur  du  Ronceret  had  been 
in  favor  of  du  Bousquier.  To  others  the  purveyor 
seemed  dangerous,  —  a  man  of  bad  habits,  capable 
of  anything.  In  the  provinces,  as  in  Paris,  men  be- 
fore the  public  eye  are  like  that  statue  in  the  fine 
allegorical  tale  of  Addison,  for  which  two  knights 
on  arriving  near  it  fought;  for  one  saw  it  white,  the 
other  saw  it  black.  Then,  when  they  were  both  off 
their  horses,  they  saw  it  was  white  one  side  and  black 
the  other.  A  third  knight  coming  along  declared  it 
red. 

When  the  chevalier  went  home  that  night,  he  made 
many  reflections,  as  follows :  — 

"It  is  high  time  now  to  spread  a  rumor  of  my  mar- 
riage with  Mademoiselle  Cormon.  It  will  leak  out 
from  the  d'Esgrignon  salon,  and  go  straight  to  the 
bishop  at  Seez,  and  so  get  round  through  the  grand 
vicars  to  the  curate  of  Saint-Leonard's,  who  will  be 
certain  to  tell  it  to  the  Abbe  Couturier;  and  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  will  get  the  shot  in  her  upper  works. 
The  old  Marquis  d'Esgrignon  shall  invite  the  Abb ^  de 
Sponde  to  dinner,  so  as  to  stop  all  gossip  about 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  if  I  decide  against  her,  or  about 
me  if  she  refuses  me.  The  abbe  shall  be  well  cajoled; 
and  Mademoiselle  Cormon  will  certainly  not  hold  out 
against  a  visit  from  Mademoiselle  Armande,  who  will 


300  An   Old  Maid. 

show  her  the  grandeur  and  future  chances  of  such  an 
alliance.  The  abbe's  property  is  undoubtedly  as  much 
as  three  hundred  thousand;  her  own  savings  must 
amount  to  more  than  two  hundred  thousand ;  she  has 
her  house  and  Prebaudet  and  fifteen  thousand  francs 
a  year.  A  word  to  my  friend  the  Comte  de  Fontaine, 
and  I  should  be  mayor  of  Alencon  to-morrow,  and 
deputy.  Then,  once  seated  on  the  Right  benches, 
we  shall  reach  the  peerage,  shouting,  '  Cloture !  ' 
'  Ordre ! '  " 

As  soon  as  she  reached  home  Madame  Granson  had 
a  lively  argument  with  her  son,  who  could  not  be  made 
to  see  the  connection  which  existed  between  his  love 
and  his  political  opinions.  It  was  the  first  quarrel 
that  had  ever  troubled  that  poor  household. 


An   Old  Maid.  301 


VI. 


FINAL    DISAPPOINTMENT   AND    ITS    FIRST   RESULT. 

The  next  clay,  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  packed  into 
the  old  carriole  with  Josette,  and  looking  like  a  pyra- 
mid on  a  vast  sea  of  parcels,  drove  up  the  rue  Saint- 
Blaise  on  her  way  to  Prebaudet,  where  she  was  over- 
taken by  an  event  which  harried  on  her  marriage,  — 
an  event  entirely  unlooked  for  by  either  Madame 
Grauson,  du  Bousquier,  Monsieur  de  Valois,  or  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  herself.  Chance  is  the  greatest  of 
all  artificers. 

The  da}T  after  her  arrival  at  Prebaudet,  she  was  inno- 
cently employed,  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
in  listening,  as  she  breakfasted,  to  the  various  reports 
of  her  keeper  and  her  gardener,  when  Jacquelin  made 
a  violent  irruption  into  the  dining-room. 

"Mademoiselle,"  he  cried,  out  of  breath,  "Monsieur 
l'abbe  sends  you  an  express,  the  son  of  Mere  Gros- 
mort,  with  a  letter.  The  lad  left  Alencon  before  day- 
light, and  he  has  just  arrived;  he  ran  like  Penelope! 
Can't  I  give  him  a  glass  of  wine?  " 

"What  can  have  happened,  Josette?  Do  you  think 
m}T  uncle  can  be  —  " 

"He  couldn't  write  if  he  were,"  said  Josette,  guess- 
ins:  her  mistress's  fears. 


302  An  Old  Maid. 

"Quick!  quick!"  cried  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  as 
soon  as  she  had  read  the  first  liues.  "Tell  Jacquelin 
to  harness  Penelope —  Get  ready,  Josette;  pack  up 
everything  in  half  an  hour.  We  must  go  back  to 
town  —  " 

"Jacquelin!"  called  Josette,  excited  by  the  senti- 
ment she  saw  on  her  mistress's  face. 

Jacquelin,  informed  by  Josette,  came  in  to  say,  — 

"But,  mademoiselle,  Penelope  is  eating  her  oats." 

"What  does  that  signify?     I  must  start  at  once." 

"But,  mademoiselle,  it  is  going  to  rain." 

"Then  we  shall  get  wet." 

"The  house  is  on  fire!  "  muttered  Josette,  piqued  at 
the  silence  her  mistress  kept  as  to  the  contents  of  the 
letter,  which  she  read  and  reread. 

"Finish  your  coffee,  at  any  rate,  mademoiselle; 
don't  excite  your  blood;  just  see  how  red  you  are." 

"Am  I  red,  Josette?"  she  said,  going  to  a  mirror, 
from  which  the  quicksilver  was  peeling,  and  which  pre- 
sented her  features  to  her  upside  down. 

"Good  heavens!"  thought  Mademoiselle  Cormon, 
"suppose  I  should  look  ugly!  Come,  Josette;  come, 
my  dear,  dress  me  at  once ;  I  want  to  be  ready  before 
Jacquelin  has  harnessed  Penelope.  If  you  can't  pack 
my  things  in  time,  I  will  leave  them  here  rather  than 
lose  a  single  minute." 

If  you  have  thoroughly  comprehended  the  positive 
monomania  to  which  the  desire  of  marriage  had  brought 
Mademoiselle  Cormon,  you  will  share  her  emotion. 
The  worthy  uncle  announced  in  this  sudden  missive 
that  Monsieur  de  Troisville,  of  the  Russian  army 
during  the  Emigration,  grandson  of  one  of  his  best 


An   Old  Maid.  303 

friends,  was  desirous  of  retiring  to  Alengon,  and 
asked  bis,  the  abbe's  hospitality,  on  the  ground  of  bis 
friendship  for  his  grandfather,  the  Vicomte  de  Trois- 
ville.  The  old  abbe,  alarmed  at  the  responsibility, 
entreated  his  niece  to  return  instantly  and  help  him  to 
receive  this  guest,  and  do  the  honors  of  the  house ;  for 
the  viscount's  letter  had  been  delayed,  and  he  might 
descend  upon  his  shoulders  that  very  night. 

After  reading  this  missive  could  there  be  a  question 
of  the  demands  of  Prebaudet?  The  keeper  and  the 
gardener,  witnesses  to  Mademoiselle  Conxion's  ex- 
citement, stood  aside  and  awaited  her  orders.  But 
when,  as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  they 
stopped  her  to  ask  for  instructions,  for  the  first  time 
in  her  life  the  despotic  old  maid,  who  saw  to  every- 
thing at  Prebaudet  with  her  own  eyes,  said,  to  their 
stupefaction,  "Do  what  you  like."  This  from  a  mis- 
tress who  carried  her  administration  to  the  point  of 
counting  her  fruits,  and  marking  them  so  as  to  order 
their  consumption  according  to  the  number  and  condi- 
tion of  each! 

"I  believe  I'm  dreaming,"  thought  Josette,  as  she 
saw  her  mistress  flying  down  the  staircase  like  an  ele- 
phant to  which  God  had  given  wings. 

Presently,  in  spite  of  a  driving  rain,  Mademoiselle 
Cormon  drove  away  from  Prebaudet,  leaving  her  fac- 
totums with  the  reins  on  their  necks.  Jacquelin  dared 
not  take  upon  himself  to  hasten  the  usual  little  trot  of 
the  peaceable  Penelope,  who,  like  the  beautiful  queen 
whose  name  she  bore,  had  an  appearance  of  making  as 
many  steps  backward  as  she  made  forward.  Impa- 
tient with  the  pace,  mademoiselle  ordered  Jacquelin  in 


304  An   Old  Maid. 

a  sharp  voice  to  drive  at  a  gallop,  with  the  whip,  if 
necessary,  to  the  great  astonishment  of  the  poor 
beast,  so  afraid  was  she  of  not  having  time  to  arrange 
the  house  suitably  to  receive  Monsieur  de  Troisville. 
She  calculated  that  the  grandson  of  her  uncle's  friend 
was  probably  about  forty  years  of  age;  a  soldier  just 
from  service  was  undoubtedly  a  bachelor;  and  she 
resolved,  her  uncle  aiding,  not  to  let  Monsieur  de 
Troisville  quit  their  house  in  the  condition  he  entered 
it.  Though  Penelope  galloped,  Mademoiselle  Cormon, 
absorbed  in  thoughts  of  her  trousseau  and  the  wedding- 
day,  declared  again  and  again  that  Jacquelin  made 
no  way  at  all.  She  twisted  about  in  the  carriole  with- 
out replying  to  Josette's  questions,  and  talked  to  her- 
self like  a  person  who  is  mentally  revolving  important 
designs. 

The  carriole  at  last  arrived  in  the  main  street  of 
Alencon,  called  the  rue  Saint-Blaise  at  the  end  toward 
Mortagne,  but  near  the  hotel  du  More  it  takes  the 
name  of  the  rue  de  la  Porte-de-Seez,  and  becomes  the 
rue  du  Bercail  as  it  enters  the  road  to  Brittany.  If 
the  departure  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon  made  a  great 
noise  in  Alencon,  it  is  easy  to  imagine  the  uproar 
caused  by  her  sudden  return  on  the  following  day,  in 
a  pouring  rain  which  beat  in  her  face  without  her 
apparently  minding  it.  Penelope  at  a  gallop  was  ob- 
served by  every  one,  and  Jacquelin's  grin,  the  early 
hour,  the  parcels  stuffed  into  the  carriole  topsy-turvy, 
and  the  evident  impatience  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
were  all  noted. 

The  property  of  the  house  of  Troisville  lay  between 
Alenc/m   and   Mortagne.     Josette   knew   the   various 


An  Old  Maid.  305 

branches  of  the  family.  A  word  dropped  b}^  made- 
moiselle as  they  entered  Alenqon  had  put  Josette  on 
the  scent  of  the  affair;  and  a  discussion  having  started 
between  them,  it  was  settled  that  the  expected  de 
Troisville  must  be  between  forty  and  forty-two  years 
of  age,  a  bachelor,  and  neither  rich  nor  poor.  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  beheld  herself  speedily  Vicomtesse  de 
Troisville. 

"And  to  think  that  my  uncle  told  me  nothing! 
thinks  of  nothing!  inquires  nothing!  That's  my 
uncle  all  over.  He'd  forget  his  own  nose  if  it  was  n't 
fastened  to  his  face." 

Have  you  never  remarked  that,  under  circumstances 
such  as  these,  old  maids  become,  like  Richard  III., 
keen-witted,  fierce,  bold,  promissory,  —  if  one  may 
so  use  the  word,  —  and,  like  inebriate  clerks,  no 
longer  in  awe  of  anything? 

Immediately  the  town  of  Alen<;on,  speedily  informed 
from  the  farther  end  of  the  rue  de  Saint-Blaise  to  the 
gate  of  Seez  of  this  precipitate  return,  accompanied 
by  singular  circumstances,  was  perturbed  throughout 
its  viscera,  both  public  and  domestic.  Cooks,  shop* 
keepers,  street  passengers,  told  the  news  from  door  to 
door;  thence  it  rose  to  the  upper  regions.  Soon  the 
words:  "Mademoiselle  Cormon  has  returned!"  burst 
like  a  bombshell  into  all  households.  At  that  moment 
Jacquelin  was  descending  from  his  wooden  seat 
(polished  by  a  process  unknown  to  cabinet-makers), 
on  which  he  perched  in  front  of  the  carriole.  He 
opened  the  great  green  gate,  round  at  the  top,  and 
closed  in  sign  of  mourning;  for  during  Mademoiselle 
Cormon's  absence  the  evening  assemblies  did  not  take 

20 


306  An   Old  Maid. 

place.  The  faithful  invited  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  to 
their  several  houses;  and  Monsieur  de  Valois  paid  his 
debt  by  inviting  him  to  dine  at  the  Marquis  d'Esgri- 
gnon's.  Jacquelin,  having  opened  the  gate,  called 
familiarly  to  Penelope,  whom  he  had  left  in  the  middle 
of  the  street.  That  animal,  accustomed  to  this  pro- 
ceeding, turned  in  of  herself,  and  circled  round  the 
courtyard  in  a  manner  to  avoid  injuring  the  flower-bed. 
Jacquelin  then  took  her  bridle  and  led  the  carriage  to 
the  portico. 

"Mariette!"  cried  Mademoiselle  Cormon. 

"  Mademoiselle !  "  exclaimed  Mariette,  who  was 
occupied  in  closing  the  gate. 

"Has  the  gentleman  arrived?" 

"No,  mademoiselle." 

"Where's  my  uncle?" 

"He  is  at  church,  mademoiselle." 

Jacquelin  and  Josette  were  by  this  time  on  the  first 
step  of  the  portico,  holding  out  their  hands  to 
manoeuvre  the  exit  of  their  mistress  from  the  carriole 
as  she  pulled  herself  up  by  the  sides  of  the  vehicle 
and  clung  to  the  curtains.  Mademoiselle  then  threw 
herself  into  their  arms;  because  for  the  last  two  years 
she  dared  not  risk  her  weight  on  the  iron  step,  affixed 
to  the  frame  of  the  carriage  by  a  horrible  mechanism 
of  clumsy  bolts. 

When  Mademoiselle  Cormon  reached  the  level  of  the 
portico  she  looked  about  her  courtyard  with  an  air  of 
satisfaction. 

"Come,  come,  Mariette,  leave  that  gate  alone; 
I  want  you." 

"There  's  something  in  the  wind,"  whispered  Jacque- 
lin, as  Mariette  passed  the  carriole. 


An   Old  Maid.  307 

"Mariette,  what  provisions  have  you  in  the  house?  " 
asked  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  sitting  down  on  the 
bench  in  the  long  antechamber  like  a  person  over- 
come with  fatigue. 

"I  haven't  anything,"  replied  Mariette,  with  her 
hands  on  her  hips.  "Mademoiselle  knows  very  well 
that  during  her  absence  Monsieur  l'abbe  dines  out 
every  day.  Yesterday  I  went  to  fetch  him  from 
Mademoiselle  Armande's." 

"Where  is  he  now?" 

"Monsieur  l'abbe?  Why,  at  church;  he  won't  be  in 
before  three  o'clock." 

"He  thinks  of  nothing!  he  ought  to  have  told  you 
to  go  to  market.  Mariette,  go  at  once ;  and  without 
wasting  money,  don't  spare  it;  get  all  there  is  that  is 
good  and  delicate.  Go  to  the  diligence  office  and  see 
if  you  can  send  for  pates ;  and  I  want  shrimps  from 
the  Erillante.     What  o'clock  is  it?  " 

"A  quarter  to  nine." 

"Good  heavens!  Mariette,  don't  stop  to  chatter. 
The  person  my  uncle  expects  may  arrive  at  any 
moment.  If  we  had  to  give  him  a  breakfast,  where 
should  we  be  with  nothing;  in  the  house?" 

Mariette  turned  back  to  Penelope  in  a  lather,  and 
looked  at  Jacquelin  as  if  she  would  say,  "Mademoiselle 
has  put  her  hand  on  a  husband  this  time." 

"Now,  Josette,"  continued  the  old  maid,  "let  us 
see  where  we  had  better  put  Monsieur  de  Troisville 
to  sleep." 

With  what  joy  she  said  the  words,  "Put  Monsieur 
de  Troisville  "  (pronounced  Treville)  "to  sleep."  How 
many  ideas  in  those  few  words!  The  old  maid  was 
bathed  in  hope. 


308  An   Old  Maid. 


"Will  you  put  him  in  the  green  chamber?" 

"The  bishop's  room?  No;  that's  too  near  mine," 
said  Mademoiselle  Cormon.  "All  very  well  for  mon- 
seigneur;  he  's  a  saintly  man." 

"Give  him  your  uncle's  room." 

"Oh,  that's  so  bare;  it  is  actually  indecent." 

"Well,  then,  mademoiselle,  why  not  arrange  a  bed 
in  your  boudoir?  It  is  easily  done;  and  there's  a  fire- 
place. Moreau  can  certainly  find  in  his  warerooms  a 
bed  to  match  the  hangings." 

"You  are  right,  Josette.  Go  yourself  to  Moreau; 
consult  with  him  what  to  do;  I  authorize  you  to  get 
what  is  wanted.  If  the  bed  could  be  put  up  to-night 
without  Monsieur  de  Troisville' s  observing  it  (in  case 
Monsieur  de  Troisville  arrives  while  Moreau  is  here), 
I  should  like  it.  If  Moreau  won't  engage  to  do  this, 
then  I  must  put  Monsieur  de  Troisville  in  the  green 
room,  although  Monsieur  de  Troisville  would  be  so 
very  near  to  me." 

Josette  was  departing  when  her  mistress  recalled 
her. 

"Stop!  explain  the  matter  to  Jacquelin,"  she  cried, 
in  a  loud  nervous  tone.  "Tell  him  to  go  to  Moreau; 
I  must  be  dressed !  Fancy  if  Monsieur  de  Troisville 
surprised  me  as  I  am  now!  and  my  uncle  not  here  to 
receive  him!  Oh,  uncle,  uncle!  Come,  Josette; 
come  and  dress  me  at  once." 

"But  Penelope?'    said  Josette,  imprudently. 

"Always  Penelope!  Penelope  this,  Penelope  that! 
Is  Penelope  the  mistress  of  this  house?  " 

"But  she  is  all  of  a  lather,  and  she  hasn't  had  time 
to  eat  her  oats." 


An   Old  Maid.  309 

"Then  let  her  starve!  "  cried  Mademoiselle  Cormon; 
"provided  I  marry,"  she  thought  to  herself. 

Hearing  those  words,  which  seemed  to  her  like 
homicide,  Josette  stood  still  for  a  moment,  speechless. 
Then,  at  a  gesture  from  her  mistress,  she  ran  headlong 
down  the  steps  of  the  portico. 

"The  devil  is  in  her,  Jacquelin,"  were  the  first 
words  she  uttered. 

Thus  all  things  conspired  on  this  fateful  day  to  pro- 
duce the  great  scenic  effect  which  decided  the  future 
life  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon.  The  town  was  already 
topsy-turvy  in  mind,  as  a  consequence  of  the  five 
extraordinary  circumstances  which  accompanied  Made- 
moiselle Cormon's  return;  to  wit,  the  pouring  rain; 
Penelope  at  a  gallop,  in  a  lather,  and  blown ;  the  early 
hour;  the  parcels  half-packed;  and  the  singular  air  of 
the  excited  old  maid.  But  when  Mariette  made  an 
invasion  of  the  market,  and  bought  all  the  best  things ; 
when  Jacquelin  went  to  the  principal  upholsterer  in 
Alencon,  two  doors  from  the  church,  in  search  of  a 
bed, —  there  was  matter  for  the  gravest  conjectures. 
These  extraordinary  events  were  discussed  on  all  sides; 
they  occupied  the  minds  of  every  one,  even  Mademoi- 
selle Armande  herself,  with  whom  was  Monsieur  de 
Valois.  Within  two  days  the  town  of  Alengon  had 
been  agitated  by  such  startling  events  that  certain 
good  women  were  heard  to  remark  that  the  world  was 
coming  to  an  end.  This  last  news,  however,  resolved 
itself  into  a  single  question,  "What  is  happening 
at  the  Cormons?  " 

The  Abbe  de  Sponde,  adroitly  questioned  when  he 
left  Saint-Leonard's  to  take  his  daily  walk  with  the 


310  An   Old  Maid. 

Abbe  Couturier,  replied  with  his  usual  kindliness  that 
he  expected  the  Vicomte  de  Troisville,  a  nobleman  in 
the  service  of  Russia  during  the  Emigration,  who  was 
returning  to  Alencon  to  settle  there.  From  two  to  five 
o'clock  a  species  of  labial  telegraphy  went  on  through- 
out the  town;  and  all  the  inhabitants  learned  that 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  had  at  last  found  a  husband  by 
letter,  and  was  about  to  marry  the  Vicomte  de  Trois- 
ville. Some  said,  "Moreau  has  sold  them  a  bed." 
The  bed  was  six  feet  wide  in  that  quarter;  it  was  four 
feet  wide  at  Madame  Granson's,  in  the  rue  du  Bercail; 
but  it  was  reduced  to  a  simple  couch  at  Monsieur  du 
Ronceret's,  where  du  Bousquier  was  dining.  The 
lesser  bourgeoisie  declared  that  the  cost  was  eleven 
hundred  francs.  But  generally  it  was  thought  that,  as 
to  this,  rumor  was  counting  the  chickens  before  they 
were  hatched.  In  other  quarters  it  was  said  that 
Mariette  had  made  such  a  raid  on  the  market  that  the 
price  of  carp  had  risen.  At  the  end  of  the  rue  Saint- 
Blaise,  Penelope  had  dropped  dead.  .  This  decease 
was  doubted  in  the  house  of  the  receiver-general ;  but 
at  the  Prefecture  it  was  authenticated  that  the  poor 
beast  had  expired  as  she  turned  into  the  courtyard  of 
the  hotel  Cormon,  with  such  velocity  had  the  old  maid 
flown  to  meet  her  husband.  The  harness-maker,  who 
lived  at  the  corner  of  the  rue  de  Seez,  was  bold  enough 
to  call  at  the  house  and  ask  if  anything  had  happened 
to  Mademoiselle  Conxion's  carriage,  in  order  to  dis- 
cover whether  Penelope  was  really  dead.  From  the 
end  of  the  rue  Saint-Blaise  to  the  end  of  the  rue  du 
Bercail,  it  was  then  made  known  that,  thanks  to 
Jacquelin's  devotion,  Penelope,  that  silent  victim  of 


An   Old  Maid.  311 

her  mistress's  impetuosity,  still  lived,  though  she 
seemed  to  be  suffering. 

Aloug  the  road  to  Brittany  the  Yicomte  de  Trois- 
ville  was  stated  to  be  a  younger  son  without  a  penny, 
for  the  estates  in  Perch e  belonged  to  the  Marquis  de 
Troisville,  peer  of  France,  who  had  children;  the 
marriage  would  be,  therefore,  an  enormous  piece  of 
luck  for  a  poor  emigre.  The  aristocracy  along  that 
road  approved  of  the  marriage;  Mademoiselle  Cornion 
could  not  do  better  with  her  money.  But  among  the 
bourgeoisie,  the  Vicorate  de  Troisville  was  a  Russian 
general  who  had  fought  against  France,  and  was  now 
returning  with  a  great  fortune  made  at  the  court  of 
Saint-Petersburg ;  he  was  a  foreigner ;  one  of  those 
allies  so  hated  by  the  liberals;  the  Abbe  de  Sponde 
had  slyly  negotiated  this  marriage.  All  the  persons 
who  had  a  right  to  call  upon  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
determined  to  do  so  that  very  evening. 

During  this  transurban  excitement,  which  made  that 
of  Suzanne  an  almost  forgotten  affair,  Mademoiselle 
Cormon  was  not  less  agitated;  she  was  filled  with  a 
variety  of  novel  emotions.  Looking  about  her  salon, 
dining-room,  and  boudoir,  cruel  apprehensions  took 
possession  of  her.  A  species  of  demon  showed  her 
with  a  sneer  her  old-fashioned  luxury.  The  hand- 
some things  she  had  admired  from  her  youth  up  she 
suddenly  suspected  of  age  and  absurdity.  In  short, 
she  felt  that  fear  which  takes  possession  of  nearly  all 
authors  when  they  read  over  a  work  they  have  hitherto 
thought  proof  against  every  exacting  or  blase  critic: 
new  situations  seem  timeworn;  the  best-turned  and 
most  highly  polished  phrases  limp  and  squint;  meta- 


312  An   Old  Maid. 

phors  and  images  grin  or  contradict  each  other;  what- 
soever is  false  strikes  the  eye.  In  like  manner  this 
poor  woman  trembled  lest  she  should  see  on  the  lips  of 
Monsieur  de  Troisville  a  smile  of  contempt  for  this 
episcopal  salon ;  she  dreaded  the  cold  look  he  might 
cast  over  that  ancient  dining-room;  in  short,  she 
feared  the  frame  might  injure  and  age  the  portrait. 
Suppose  these  antiquities  should  cast  a  reflected  light 
of  old  age  upon  herself?  This  question  made  her 
flesh  creep.  She  would  gladly,  at  that  moment,  spend 
half  her  savings  on  refitting  her  house  if  some  fairy 
wand  could  do  it  in  a  moment.  Where  is  the  general 
who  has  not  trembled  on  the  eve  of  a  battle?  The 
poor  woman  was  now  between  her  Austerlitz  and  her 
Waterloo. 

"Madame  la  Vicomtesse  de  Troisville,"  she  said  to 
herself;  "a  noble  name!  Our  property  will  go  to  a 
good  family,  at  any  rate." 

She  fell  a  prey  to  an  irritation  which  made  every 
fibre  of  her  nerves  quiver  to  all  their  papillae,  long 
sunk  in  flesh.  Her  blood,  lashed  by  this  new  hope, 
was  in  motion.  She  felt  the  strength  to  converse,  if 
necessary,  with  Monsieur  de  Troisville. 

It  is  useless  to  relate  the  activity  with  which  Josette, 
Jacquelin,  Mariette,  Moreau,  and  his  agents  went  about 
their  functions.  It  was  like  the  busyness  of  ants  about 
their  eggs.  All  that  daily  care  had  already  rendered 
neat  and  clean  was  again  gone  over  and  brushed  and 
rubbed  and  scrubbed.  The  china  of  ceremony  saw 
the  light;  the  damask  linen  marked  "A,  B,  C"  was 
drawn  from  depths  where  it  lay  under  a  triple  guard  of 
wrappings,  still  further  defended  by  formidable  lines 


An  Old  Maid.  313 

of  pins.     Above  all,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  sacrificed 
on  the  altar  of  her  hopes  three  bottles  of  the  famous 
liqueurs  of    Madame  Amphoux,   the   most    illustrious 
of  all  the  distillers  of  the  tropics,  —  a  name  very  dear 
to  gourmets.     Thanks  to  the  devotion  of  her  lieuten- 
ants, mademoiselle  was   soon   ready  for  the  conflict. 
The    different   weapons  —  furniture,    cookery,    provi- 
sions,   in    short,    all    the   various    munitions  of  war, 
together  with  a  body  of  reserve  forces  —  were  ready 
along  the  whole  line.    Jacquelin,  Mariette,  and  Josette 
received  orders  to  appear  in  full  dress.     The  garden 
was  raked.     The  old  maid  regretted  that  she  could  n't 
come  to  an  understanding  with  the  nightingales  nest- 
ing in  the  trees,  in  order  to  obtain  their  finest  trilling. 
At  last,   about   four   o'clock,   at   the  very   moment 
when  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  returned  home,  and  just  as 
mademoiselle  began  to  think  she    had   set  the    table 
with  the  best  plate  and  linen  and  prepared  the  choi- 
cest dishes  to  no  purpose,  the  click-clack  of  a  postilion 
was  heard  in  the  Val-Noble. 

"  'T  is  he!  "  she  said  to  herself,  the  snap  of  the  whip 
echoing  in  her  heart. 

True  enough;  heralded  by  all  this  gossip,  a  post- 
chaise,  in  which  was  a  single  gentleman,  made  so 
great  a  sensation  coming  down  the  rue  Saint-Blaise 
and  turning;  into  the  rue  du  Cours  that  several  little 
gamins  and  some  grown  persons  followed  it,  and 
stood  in  groups  about  the  gate  of  the  hotel  Cormon  to 
see  it  enter.  Jacquelin,  who  foresaw  his  own  mar- 
riage in  that  of  his  mistress,  had  also  heard  the  click- 
clack  in  the  rue  Saint-Blaise,  and  had  opened  wide 
the  gates  into  the  courtyard.     The  postilion,  a  friend 


314  An   Old  Maid. 

of  his,  took  pride  in  making  a  fine  turn-in,  and  drew 
up  sharply  before  the  portico.  The  abbe  came  forward 
to  greet  his  guest,  whose  carriage  was  emptied  with  a 
speed  that  highwaymen  might  put  into  the  operation ; 
the  chaise  itself  was  rolled  into  the  coach-house,  the 
gates  closed,  and  in  a  few  moments  all  signs  of  Mon- 
sieur de  Troisville's  arrival  had  disappeared.  Never 
did  two  chemicals  blend  into  each  other  with  greater 
rapidity  than  the  hotel  Cormon  displayed  in  absorb- 
ing the  Vicomte  de  Troisville. 

Mademoiselle,  whose  heart  was  beating  like  a  lizard 
caught  by  a  herdsman,  sat  heroically  still  on  her  sofa, 
beside  the  fire  in  the  salon.  Josette  opened  the  door; 
and  the  Vicomte  de  Troisville,  followed  by  the  Abbe 
de  Sponde,  presented  himself  to  the  eyes  of  the 
spinster. 

"Niece,  this  is  Monsieur  le  Vicomte  de  Troisville, 
the  grandson  of  one  of  my  old  schoolmates;  Mon- 
sieur de  Troisville,  my  niece,  Mademoiselle  Cormon." 

"Ah!  that  good  uncle;  how  well  he  does  it!" 
thought  Rose-Marie-Victoire. 

The  Vicomte  de  Troisville  was,  to  paint  him  in  two 
words,  du  Bousquier  ennobled.  Between  the  two  men 
there  was  precisely  the  difference  which  separates  the 
vulgar  style  from  the  noble  style.  If  they  had  both 
been  present,  the  most  fanatic  liberal  would  not  have 
denied  the  existence  of  aristocracy.  The  viscount's 
strength  had  all  the  distinction  of  elegance;  his  figure 
had  preserved  its  magnificent  dignity.  He  had  blue 
eyes,  black  hair,  an  olive  skin,  and  looked  to  be  about 
forty-six  years  of  age.  You  might  have  thought  him 
a  handsome  Spaniard  preserved  in  the  ice  of  Russia. 


An   Old  Maid.  315 

His  manner,  carriage,  and  attitude,  all  denoted  a 
diplomat  who  had  seen  Europe.  His  dress  was  that 
of  a  well-bred  traveller.  As  he  seemed  fatigued,  the 
abbe  offered  to  show  him  to  his  room,  and  was  much 
amazed  when  his  niece  threw  open  the  door  of  the 
boudoir,  transformed  into  a  bedroom. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  and  her  uncle  then  left  the 
noble  stranger  to  attend  to  his  own  affairs,  aided  by 
Jacquelin,  who  brought  up  his  luggage,  and  went 
themselves  to  walk  beside  the  river  until  their  guest 
had  made  his  toilet.  Although  the  Abbe  de  Sponde 
chanced  to  be  even  more  absent-minded  than  usual, 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  herself  was  not  less  preoccu- 
pied. They  both  walked  on  in  silence.  The  old  maid 
had  never  before  met  any  man  as  seductive  as  this 
Olympean  viscount.  She  might  have  said  to  herself, 
as  the  Germans  do,  "This  is  my  ideal!"  instead  of 
which  she  felt  herself  bound  from  head  to  foot,  and 
could  only  say,  "Here's  my  affair!"  Then  she  flew 
to  Mariette  to  know  if  the  dinner  could  be  put  back  a 
while  without  loss  of  excellence. 

"Uncle,  your  Monsieur  de  Troisville  is  very  ami- 
able," she  said,  on  returning. 

"Why,  niece,  he  has  n't  as  yet  said  a  word." 

"But  you  can  see  it  in  his  ways,  his  manners,  his 
face.     Is  he  a  bachelor  ?  " 

"I  'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  replied  the  abbe,  who  was 
thinking  of  a  discussion  on  mercy,  lately  begun  be- 
tween the  Abbe  Couturier  and  himself.  "  Monsieur  de 
Troisville  wrote  me  that  he  wanted  to  buy  a  house 
here?  If  he  was  married,  he  wouldn't  come  alone 
on  such  an  errand,"  added  the  abbe,   carelessly,  not 


316  An   Old  Maid. 

conceiving  the  idea  that  his  niece  could  be  thinking 
of  marriage. 

"Is  he  rich?" 

"He  is  a  younger  son  of  the  younger  branch,"  re- 
plied her  uncle.  "His  grandfather  commanded  a 
squadron,  but  the  father  of  this  young  man  made  a 
bad  marriage." 

"Young  man!  "  exclaimed  the  old  maid.  "It  seems 
to  me,  uncle,  that  he  must  be  at  least  forty-five."  She 
felt  the  strongest  desire  to  put  their  years  on  a  par. 

"Yes,"  said  the  abbe;  "but  to  a  poor  priest  of 
seventy,  Rose,  a  man  of  forty  seems  a  youth." 

All  Alencon  knew  by  this  time  that  Monsieur  cle 
Troisville  had  arrived  at  the  Cormons.  The  traveller 
soon  rejoined  his  hosts,  and  began  to  admire  the  Bril- 
lante,  the  garden,  and  the  house. 

"Monsieur  Tabb^,"  he  said,  "my  whole  ambition 
is  to  have  a  house  like  this."  The  old  maid  fancied 
a  declaration  lurked  in  that  speech,  and  she  lowered 
her  eyes.  "You  must  enjoy  it  very  much,  mademoi- 
selle," added  the  viscount. 

"How  could  it  be  otherwise?  It  has  been  in  our 
family  since  1574,  the  period  at  which  one  of  our 
ancestors,  steward  to  the  Due  d'AlenQon,  acquired 
the  land  and  built  the  house,"  replied  Mademoiselle 
Cormon.     "It  is  built  on  piles,"  she  added. 

Jacquelin  announced  dinner.  Monsieur  cle  Trois- 
ville offered  his  arm  to  the  happy  woman,  who  endeav- 
ored not  to  lean  too  heavily  upon  it;  she  feared,  as 
usual,  to  seem  to  make  advances. 

"Everything  is  so  harmonious  here,"  said  the  vis- 
count, as  he  seated  himself  at  table. 


An   Old  Maid.  317 

" Yes,  our  trees  are  full  of  birds,  which  give  us  con- 
certs for  nothing;  no  one  ever  frightens  them;  and 
the  nightingales  sing  at  night,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Cormon. 

"I  was  speaking  of  the  interior  of  the  house,"  re- 
marked the  viscount,  who  did  not  trouble  himself  to 
observe  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  and  therefore  did  not 
perceive  the  dulness  of  her  mind.  "Everything  is  so 
in  keeping,  —  the  tones  of  color,  the  furniture,  the 
general  character." 

"But  it  costs  a  great  deal;  taxes  are  enormous,"  re- 
sponded the  excellent  woman. 

"Ah!  taxes  are  high,  are  they?"  said  the  viscount, 
preoccupied  with  his  own  ideas. 

"I  don't  know,"  replied  the  abbe.  "My  niece  man- 
ages the  property  of  each  of  us." 

"Taxes  are  not  of  much  importance  to  the  rich," 
said  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  not  wishing  to  be  thought 
miserly.  "As  for  the  furniture,  I  shall  leave  it  as  it 
is,  and  change  nothing,  — unless  I  marry;  and  then, 
of  course,  eveiything  here  must  suit  the  husband." 

"You  have  noble  principles,  mademoiselle,"  said  the 
viscount,  smiling.     "You  will  make  one  happy  man." 

"No  one  ever  made  to  me  such  a  pretty  speech," 
thought  the  old  maid. 

The  viscount  complimented  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
on  the  excellence  of  her  service  and  the  admirable 
arrangements  of  the  house,  remarking  that  he  had  sup- 
posed the  provinces  behind  the  age  in  that  respect; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  he  found  them,  as  the  English 
say,  "very  comfortable." 

"What  can  that  word  mean ?  "  she  thought.     "Oh, 


318  An   Old  Maid. 

where  is  the  chevalier  to  explain  it  to  me  ?  Comfort- 
able, —  there  seem  to  be  several  words  in  it.  Well, 
courage!"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  can't  be  expected 
to  answer  a  foreign  language —  But,"  she  continued 
aloud,  feeling  her  tongue  untied  by  the  eloquence 
which  nearly  all  human  creatures  find  in  momentous 
circumstances,  "we  have  a  very  brilliant  society  here, 
monsieur.  It  assembles  at  my  house,  and  you  shall 
judge  of  it  this  evening,  for  some  of  my  faithful 
friends  have  no  doubt  heard  of  my  return  and  your 
arrival.  Among  them  is  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  a 
seigneur  of  the  old  court,  a  man  of  infinite  wit  and 
taste;  then  there  is  Monsieur  le  Marquis  d'Esgrignon 
and  Mademoiselle  Armande,  his  sister"  (she  bit  her 
tongue  with  vexation),  —  "a  woman  remarkable  in  her 
way,"  she  added.  "She  resolved  to  remain  unmarried 
in  order  to  leave  all  her  fortune  to  her  brother  and 
nephew." 

"Ah!"  exclaimed  the  viscount.  "Yes,  the  d'Es- 
grignons,  —  I  remember  them." 

"Alencon  is  very  gay,"  continued  the  old  maid, 
now  fairly  launched.  "There's  much  amusement: 
the  receiver-general  gives  balls;  the  prefect  is  an  ami- 
able man ;  and  Monseigneur  the  bishop  sometimes 
honors  us  with  a  visit  —  " 

"Well,  then,"  said  the  viscount,  smiling,  "I  have 
done  wisely  to  come  back,  like  the  hare,  to  die  in  my 
form." 

"Yes,"  she  said.     "I,  too,  attach  myself  or  I  die." 

The  viscount  smiled. 

"Ah!  "  thought  the  old  maid,  "all  is  well;  he  under- 
stands me." 


An   Old  Maid.  319 

The  conversation  continued  on  generalities.  By 
one  of  those  mysterious  unknown  and  undelinable 
faculties,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  found  in  her  brain, 
under  the  pressure  of  her  desire  to  be  agreeable,  all  the 
phrases  and  opinions  of  the  Chevalier  de  Valois.  It 
was  like  a  duel  in  which  the  devil  himself  pointed  the 
pistol.  Never  was  any  adversary  better  aimed  at. 
The  viscount  was  far  too  well-bred  to  speak  of  the 
excellence  of  the  dinner;  but  his  silence  was  praise. 
As  he  drank  the  delicious  wines  which  Jacquelin  served 
to  him  profusely,  he  seemed  to  feel  he  was  with 
friends,  and  to  meet  them  with  pleasure ;  for  the  true 
connoisseur  does  not  applaud,  he  enjoys.  He  in- 
quired the  price  of  land,  of  houses,  of  estates;  he 
made  Mademoiselle  Cormon  describe  at  length  the 
confluence  of  the  Sarthe  and  the  Brillante;  he  ex- 
pressed surprise  that  the  town  was  placed  so  far  f mm 
the  river,  and  seemed  to  be  much  interested  in  the 
topography  of  the  place. 

The  silent  abbs  left  his  niece  to  throw  the  dice 
of  conversation;  and  she  truly  felt  that  she  pleased 
Monsieur  de  Troisville,  who  smiled  at  her  gracefully, 
and  committed  himself  during  this  one  dinner  far  more 
than  her  most  eager  suitors  had  ever  done  in  ten  days. 
Imagine,  therefore,  the  little  attentions  with  which  he 
was  petted ;  you  might  have  thought  him  a  cherished 
lover,  whose  return  brought  joy  to  the  household. 
Mademoiselle  foresaw  the  moment  when  the  viscount 
wanted  bread ;  she  watched  his  every  look ;  when  he 
turned  his  head  she  adroitly  put  upon  his  plate  a  por- 
tion of  some  dish  he  seemed  to  like;  had  he  been  a 
gourmand,  she  would  almost  have  killed  him ;  but  what 


320  An   Old  Maid. 

a  delightful  specimen  of  the  attentions  she  would  show 
to  a  husband !  She  did  not  commit  the  foil}7  of  depre- 
ciating herself;  on  the  contrary,  she  set  every  sail 
bravely,  ran  up  all  her  flags,  assumed  the  bearing  of 
the  queen  of  Alencon,  and  boasted  of  her  excellent 
preserves.  In  fact,  she  fished  for  compliments  in 
speaking  of  herself,  for  she  saw  that  she  pleased  the 
viscount;  the  truth  being  that  her  eager  desire  had 
so  transformed  her  that  she  became  almost  a  woman. 

At  dessert  she  heard,  not  without  emotions  of  de- 
light, certain  sounds  in  the  antechamber  and  salon 
which  denoted  the  arrival  of  her  usual  guests.  She 
called  the  attention  of  her  uncle  and  Monsieur  de 
Troisville  to  this  prompt  attendance  as  a  proof  of  the 
affection  that  was  felt  for  her;  whereas  it  was  really 
the  result  of  the  poignant  curiosity  which  had  seized 
upon  the  town.  Impatient  to  show  herself  in  all  her 
glory,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  told  Jacquelin  to  serve 
coffee  and  liqueurs  in  the  salon,  where  he  presently  set 
out,  in  view  of  the  whole  company,  a  magnificent 
liqueur-stand  of  Dresden  china  which  saw  the  light 
only  twice  a  year.  This  circumstance  was  taken  note 
of  by  the  company,  standing  ready  to  gossip  over  the 
merest  trifle : — 

"The  deuce!  "  muttered  du  Bousquier.  "Actually 
Madame  Amphoux's  liqueurs,  which  they  onl}'  serve 
at  the  four  church  festivals !  " 

"Undoubtedly  the  marriage  was  arranged  a  year 
ago  by  letter,"  said  the  chief-justice  du  Konceret 
"The  postmaster  tells  me  his  office  has  received  letters 
postmarked  Odessa  for  more  than  a  year." 

Madame   Granson    trembled.      The    Chevalier    de 


An   Old  Maid.  321 

Valois,  though  he  had  dined  with  the  appetite  of  four 
men,  turned  pale  even  to  the  left  section  of  his  face. 
Feeling  that  he  was  about  to  betray  himself,  he  said 

hastily,  — 

"Don't  you  think  it  is  very  cold  to-day?  I  am 
almost  frozen." 

"The  neighborhood  of  Russia,  perhaps,"  said  du 
Bousquier. 

The  chevalier  looked  at  him  as  if  to  say,  "Well 
played !  " 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  appeared  so  radiant,  so  trium- 
phant, that  the  company  thought  her  handsome.  This 
extraordinary  brilliancy  was  not  the  effect  of  sentiment 
onty.  Since  early  morning  her  blood  had  been  whirl- 
ing tempestuously  within  her,  and  her  nerves  were 
agitated  by  the  presentiment  of  some  great  crisis.  It 
required  all  these  circumstances  combined  to  make 
her  so  unlike  herself.  With  what  joy  did  she  now 
make  her  solemn  presentations  of  the  viscount  to  the 
chevalier,  the  chevalier  to  the  viscount,  and  all  Alen- 
o,on  to  Monsieur  de  Troisville,  and  Monsieur  de 
Troisville  to  all  Alencon ! 

By  an  accident  wholly  explainable,  the  viscount 
and  chevalier,  aristocrats  by  nature,  came  instantly 
into  unison ;  they  recognized  each  other  at  once  as 
men  belonging  to  the  same  sphere.  Accordingly, 
they  began  to  converse  together,  standing  before  the 
fireplace.  A  circle  formed  around  them;  and  their 
conversation,  though  uttered  in  a  low  voice,  was  lis- 
tened to  in  religious  silence.  To  give  the  effect  of 
this  scene  it  is  necessary  to  dramatize  it,  and  to  pic- 
ture Mademoiselle  Cormon  occupied   in  pouring  out 

21 


322  An   Old  Maid. 

the  coffee  of  her  imaginary  suitor,  with  her  back  to  the 
fireplace. 

Monsieur  de  Valois:  Monsieur  le  vicomte  has 
come,  I  am  told,  to  settle  in  Alengon? 

Monsieur  de  Troisville:  Yes,  monsieur,  I  am 
looking  for  a  house.  [Mademoiselle  Cormon,  cup  in 
hand,  turns  round.']  It  must  be  a  large  house  [3Iade- 
7iioiselle  Cormon  offers  him  the  cup]  to  lodge  my  whole 
family.      [The  eyes  of  the  old  maid  are  troubled.] 

Monsieur  de  Valois:  Are  you  married? 

Monsieur  de  Troisville:  Yes,  for  the  last  sixteen 
years,  to  a  daughter  of  the  Princess  Scherbellof. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  fainted;  du  Bousquier,  who 
saw  her  stagger,  sprang  forward  and  received  her 
in  his  arms ;  some  one  opened  the  door  and  allowed 
him  to  pass  out  with  his  enormous  burden.  The  fiery 
republican,  instructed  by  Josette,  found  strength  to 
carry  the  old  maid  to  her  bedroom,  where  he  laid  her 
on  the  bed.  Josette,  armed  with  scissors,  cut  the 
corset,  which  was  terribly  tight.  Du  Bousquier  flung 
water  on  Mademoiselle  Cormon' s  face  and  bosom, 
which,  released  from  the  corset,  overflowed  like  the 
Loire  in  flood.  The  poor  woman  opened  her  eyes, 
saw  du  Bousquier,  and  gave  a  cry  of  modesty  at  the 
sight  of  him.  Du  Bousquier  retired  at  once,  leaving 
six  women,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  Madame  Gran- 
son,  radiant  with  joy,  to  take  care  of  the  invalid. 

What  had  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  been  about  all 
this  time?  Faithful  to  his  system,  he  had  covered  the 
retreat. 

"That  poor  Mademoiselle  Cormon,"  he  said  to 
Monsieur  de  Troisville,  gazing  at  the  assembly,  whose 


An  Old  Maid.  323 

laughter  was  repressed  by  his  cool  aristocratic  glances, 
"her  blood  is  horribly  out  of  order;  she  wouldn't  be 
bled  before  going  to  Prebaudet  (her  estate),  —  and  see 
the  result!" 

"She  came  back  this  morning  in  the  rain,"  said  the 
Abbe  de  Sponde,  "and  she  may  have  taken  cold.  It 
won't  be  anything;  it  is  only  a  little  upset  she  is  sub- 
ject to." 

"She  told  me  yesterday  she  had  not  had  one  for 
three  months,  adding  that  she  was  afraid  it  would 
play  her  a  trick  at  last,"  said  the  chevalier. 

"Ha!  so  you  are  married?"  said  Jacquelin  to  him- 
self as  he  looked  at  Monsieur  de  Troisville,  who  was 
quietly  *sipping  his  coffee. 

The  faithful  servant  espoused  his  mistress's  disap- 
pointment; he  divined  it,  and  he  promptly  carried  away 
the  liqueurs  of  Madame  Amphoux,  which  were  offered 
to  a  bachelor,  and  not  to  the  husband  of  a  Russian 
woman. 

All  these  details  were  noticed  and  laughed  at.  The 
Abbe  de  Sponde  knew  the  object  of  Monsieur  de 
Troisville's  journey;  but,  absent-minded  as  usual,  he 
forgot  it,  not  supposing  that  his  niece  could  have 
the  slightest  interest  in  Monsieur  de  Troisville's  mar- 
riage. As  for  the  viscount,  preoccupied  with  the 
object  of  his  journey,  and,  like  many  husbands,  not 
eager  to  talk  about  his  wife,  he  had  had  no  occasion 
to  say  he  was  married;  besides,  he  would  naturally 
suppose  that  Mademoiselle  Cormon  knew  it. 

Du  Bousquier  reappeared,  and  was  questioned  furi- 
ously. One  of  the  six  women  came  down  soon  after, 
and  announced  that  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was  much 


324  An   Old  Maid. 

better,  and  that  the  doctor  had  come.  She  intended 
to  stay  in  bed,  as  it  was  necessary  to  bleed  her.  The 
salon  was  now  full.  Mademoiselle  Cormon's  absence 
allowed  the  ladies  present  to  discuss  the  tragi-comic 
scene  —  embellished,  extended,  historified,  embroid- 
ered, wreathed,  colored,  and  adorned  —  which  had  just 
taken  place,  and  which,  on  the  morrow,  was  destined 
to  occupy  all  Alencon. 

4 'That  good  Monsieur  du  Bousquier!  how  well  he 
carried  you!  "  said  Josette  to  her  mistress.  "He  was 
really  pale  at  the  sight  of  you;  he  loves  you  still." 

That  speech  served  as  closure  to  this  solemn  and 
terrible  evening. 

Throughout  the  morning  of  the  next  day  every  cir- 
cumstance of  the  late  comedy  was  known  in  the  house- 
holds of  Alencon,  and  —  let  us  say  it  to  the  shame  of 
that  town,  —  they  caused  inextinguishable  laughter. 
But  on  that  day  Mademoiselle  Cormon  (much  bene- 
fited by  the  bleeding)  would  have  seemed  sublime 
even  to  the  boldest  scoffers,  had  they  witnessed  the 
noble  dignity,  the  splendid  Christian  resignation1 
which  influenced  her  as  she  gave  her  arm  to  her  invol- 
untary deceiver  to  go  into  breakfast.  Cruel  jesters! 
why  could  you  not  have  seen  her  as  she  said  to  the 
viscount,  — 

"Madame  de  Troisville  will  have  difficulty  in  finding 
a  suitable  house;  do  me  the  favor,  monsieur,  of  accept- 
ing the  use  of  mine  during  the  time  you  are  in  search 
of  yours." 

"But,  mademoiselle,  I  have  two  sons  and  two 
daughters;  we  should  greatly  inconvenience  you." 

"Pray  do  not  refuse  me,"  she  said  earnestly. 


An   Old  Maid.  325 

"I  made  yau  the  same  offer  in  the  answer  I  wrote 
to  your  letter,"  said  the  abbe;  "but  you  did  not  re- 
ceive it." 

"What,  uncle!  then  you  knew  —  " 

The  poor  woman  stopped.  Josette  sighed.  Neither 
the  viscount  nor  the  abbe  observed  anything  amiss. 
After  breakfast  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  carried  off  his 
guest,  as  agreed  upon  the  previous  evening,  to  show 
him  the  various  houses  in  Alencon  which  could  be 
bought,  and  the  lots  of  lands  on  which  he  might  build. 

Left  alone  in  the  salon,  Mademoiselle  Cormon  said 
to  Josette,  with  a  deeply  distressed  air,  "My  child,  I 
am  now  the  talk  of  the  whole  town." 

Well,  then,  mademoiselle,  }tou  should  marry." 
But  I  am  not  prepared  to  make  a  choice." 
'Bah!  if  I  were  in  your  place,  I  should  take  Mon- 
sieur du  Bousquier." 

"Josette,  Monsieur  de  Valois  says  he  is  so 
republican." 

"They  don't  know  what  they  say,  your  gentlemen: 
sometimes  they  declare  that  he  robbed  the  republic; 
he  couldn't  love  it  if  he  did  that,"  said  Josette, 
departing. 

"That  girl  has  an  amazing  amount  of  sense," 
thought  Mademoiselle  Cormon,  who  remained  alone,  a 
prey  to  her  perplexities. 

She  saw  plainly  that  a  prompt  marriage  was  the  only 
way  to  silence  the  town.  This  last  checkmate,  so 
evidently  mortifying,  was  of  a  nature  to  drive  her  into 
some  extreme  action;  for  persons  deficient  in  mind 
find  difficulty  in  getting  out  of  any  path,  either  good 
or  evil,  into  which  they  have  entered. 


u 

u 
u 


326  An   Old  Maid. 

Each  of  the  two  old  bachelors  had  fully  understood 
the  situation  in  which  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was 
about  to  find  herself;  consequently,  each  resolved  to 
call  in  the  course  of  that  morning  to  ask  after  her 
health,  and  take  occasion,  in  bachelor  language,  to 
''press  his  point."  Monsieur  de  Valois  considered 
that  such  an  occasion  demanded  a  painstaking  toilet; 
he  therefore  took  a  bath  and  groomed  himself  with  ex- 
traordinary care.  For  the  first  and  last  time  Cesarine 
observed  him  putting  on  with  incredible  art  a  suspicion 
of  rouge.  Du  Bousquier,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
coarse  republican,  spurred  by  a  brisk  will,  paid  no 
attention  to  his  dress,   and  arrived  the  first. 

Such  little  things  decide  the  fortunes  of  men,  as  they 
do  of  empires.  Kellermann's  charge  at  Marengo, 
Bliicher's  arrival  at  Waterloo,  Louis  XIV. 's  disdain 
for  Prince  Eugene,  the  rector  of  Denain,  —  all  these 
great  causes  of  fortune  or  catastrophe  history  has 
recorded;  but  no  one  ever  profits  by  them  to  avoid 
the  small  neglects  of  their  own  life.  Consequently, 
observe  what  happens:  the  Duchesse  de  Langeais  (see 
"  History  of  the  Thirteen  ")  makes  herself  a  nun  for 
lack  of  ten  minutes'  patience;  Judge  Popinot  (see 
"Commission  in  Lunacy  ")  puts  off  till  the  morrow  the 
duty  of  examining  the  Marquis  d'Espard;  Charles 
Grandet  (see  "Eugeuie  Grandet")  goes  to  Paris  from 
Bordeaux  instead  of  returning  by  Nantes;  and  such 
events  are  called  chance  or  fatality!  A  touch  of 
rouge  carefully  applied  destroyed  the  hopes  of  the 
Chevalier  de  Valois;  could  that  nobleman  perish  in 
any  other  way?  He  had  lived  by  the  Graces,  and  he 
was  doomed  to  die  by  their  hand.     While  the  cheva- 


An   Old  Maid.  327 

lier  was  giving  this  last  touch  to  his  toilet  the  rough 
du  Bousquier  was  entering  the  salon  of  the  desolate 
old  maid.  This  entrance  produced  a  thought  in  Made- 
moiselle Cormon's  mind  which  was  favorable  to  the 
republican,  although  in  all  other  respects  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Valois  held  the  advantages. 

"God  wills  it!  "  she  said  piously,  on  seeing  du 
Bousquier. 

"Mademoiselle,  you  will  not,  I  trust,  think  my 
eagerness  importunate.  I  could  not  trust  to  my 
stupid  Rene  to  bring  news  of  your  condition,  and 
therefore  I  have  come  myself." 

"I  am  perfectly  recovered,"  she  replied,  in  a  tone 
of  emotion.  "I  thank  you,  Monsieur  du  Bousquier," 
she  added,  after  a  slight  pause,  and  in  a  significant 
tone  of  voice,  "for  the  trouble  you  have  taken,  and  for 
that  which  I  gave  you  yesterday  —  " 

She  remembered  having  been  in  his  arms,  and  that 
aoain  seemed  to  her  an  order  from  heaven.  She  had 
been  seen  for  the  first  time  by  a  man  with  her  laces 
cut,  her  treasures  violently  bursting  from  their  casket. 

"I  carried  you  with  such  joy  that  you  seemed  to  me 
light." 

Here  Mademoiselle  Cormon  looked  at  du  Bousquier 
as  she  had  never  yet  looked  at  any  man  in  the  world. 
Thus  encouraged,  the  purveyor  cast  upon  the  old  maid 
a  glance  which  reached  her  heart. 

"I  would,"  he  said,  "that  that  moment  had  given 
me  the  right  to  keep  you  as  mine  forever  [she  listened 
with  a  delighted  air] ;  as  you  lay  fainting  upon  that 
bed,  you  were  enchanting.  I  have  never  in  my  life 
seen  a  more  beautiful  person,  —  and  I  have  seen  many 


328  An   Old  Maid. 

handsome  women.  Plump  ladies  have  this  advantage: 
they  are  superb  to  look  upon ;  they  have  only  to  show 
themselves,  and  they  triumph." 

"I  fear  you  are  making  fun  of  me,"  said  the  old 
maid,  "and  that  is  not  kind  when  all  the  town  will 
probably  misinterpret  what  happened  to  me  yesterday." 

"As  true  as  my  name  is  du  Bousquier,  mademoi- 
selle, I  have  never  changed  in  my  feelings  toward  you ; 
and  your  first  refusal  has  not  discouraged  me."  . 

The  old  maid's  eyes  were  lowered.  There  was  a 
moment  of  cruel  silence  for  du  Bousquier,  and  then 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  decided  on  her  course.  She 
raised  her  eyelids;  tears  rolled  from  her  eyes,  and 
she  gave  du  Bousquier  a  tender  glance. 

"If  that  is  so,  monsieur,"  she  said,  in  a  trembling 
voice,  "promise  me  to  live  in  a  Christian  manner,  and 
not  oppose  my  religious  customs,  but  to  leave  me  the 
right  to  select  my  confessors,  and  I  will  grant  you  my 
hand ;  "  as  she  said  the  words,  she  held  it  out  to  him. 

Du  Bousquier  seized  the  good  fat  hand  so  full  of 
money,  and  kissed  it  solemnly. 

4 'But,"  she  said,  allowing  him  to  kiss  it,  "one 
thing  more  I  must  require  of  you." 

"If  it  is  a  possible  thing,  it  is  granted,"  replied  the 
purveyor. 

"Alas!"  returned  the  old  maid.  "For  my  sake,  I 
must  ask  you  to  take  upon  yourself  a  sin  which  I  feel 
to  be  enormous,  —  for  to  lie  is  one  of  the  capital  sins. 
But  you  will  confess  it,  will  you  not?  We  will  do 
penance  for  it  together  [they  looked  at  each  other 
tenderly].  Besides,  it  may  be  one  of  those  lies 
which  the  Church  permits  as  necessary  — " 


u 
if 


An   Old  Maid.  329 

"Can  she  be  as  Suzanne  says  she  is?  "  thought  du 
Bousquier.  "What  luck!  Well,  mademoiselle,  what 
is  it?"  he  said  aloud. 

"That  you  will  take  upon  yourself  to  —  " 

"What?" 

"To  say  that  this  marriage  has  been  agreed  upon 
between  us  for  the  last  six  months." 

"Charming  woman,"  said  the  purveyor,  in  the  tone 
of  a  man  willing  to  devote  himself,  "such  sacrifices 
can  be  made  only  for  a  creature  adored  these  ten 
years." 

In  spite  of  my  harshness?  "  she  said. 
Yes,  in  spite  of  your  harshness." 

"Monsieur  du  Bousquier,  I  have  misjudged  you." 

Again  she  held  out  the  fat  red  hand,  which  du  Bous- 
quier kissed  again. 

At  this  moment  the  door  opened;  the  betrothed 
pair,  looking  round  to  see  who  entered,  beheld  the 
delightful,  but  tardy  Chevalier  de  Valois. 

"Ah!  "  he  said,  on  entering,  "I  see  you  are  able  to 
be  up,  fair  queen." 

She  smiled  at  the  chevalier,  feeling  a  weight  upon 
her  heart.  Monsieur  de  Valois,  remarkably  young  and 
seductive,  had  the  air  of  a  Lauzun  re-entering  the 
apartments  of  the  Grande  Mademoiselle  in  the  Palais- 
Royal. 

"Hey!  dear  du  Bousquier,"  said  he,  in  a  jaunty 
tone,  so  sure  was  he  of  success,  "Monsieur  de  Trois- 
ville  and  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  are  examining  your 
house  like  appraisers." 

"Faith!"  said  du  Bousquier,  "if  the  Vicomte  de 
Troisville  wants  it,  it  is  his  for  forty  thousand  francs. 


830  An   Old  Maid. 

It  is  useless  to  me  now.  If  mademoiselle  will  permit 
—  it  must  soon  be  known  —  Mademoiselle,  may  I 
tell  it? —  Yes!  Well,  then,  be  the  first,  my  dear 
chevalier,  to  hear  [Mademoiselle  Cormon  dropped  her 
eyes]  of  the  honor  that  mademoiselle  has  doue  me, 
the  secret  of  which  I  have  kept  for  some  months. 
We  shall  be  married  in  a  few  days;  the  contract  is 
already  drawn,  and  we  shall  sign  it  to-morrow.  You 
see,  therefore,  that  my  house  in  the  rue  du  Cygne  is 
useless  to  me.  I  have  been  privately  looking  for  a 
purchaser  for  some  time;  and  the  Abbe  de  Sponde, 
who  knew  that  fact,  has  naturally  taken  Monsieur 
de  Troisville  to  see  the  house." 

This  falsehood  bore  such  an  appearance  of  truth 
that  the  chevalier  was  taken  in  by  it.  That  "my  dear 
chevalier"  was  like  the  revenge  taken  by  Peter  the 
Great  on  Charles  XII.  at  Pultawa  for  all  his  past 
defeats.  Du  Bousquier  revenged  himself  deliciously 
for  the  thousand  little  shafts  he  had  long  borne  in 
silence ;  but  in  his  triumph  he  made  a  lively  youthful 
gesture  by  running  his  hands  through  his  hair,  and  in 
so  doing  he  —  knocked  aside  his  false  front. 

"I  congratulate  you  both,"  said  the  chevalier,  with 
an  agreeable  air;  "and  I  wish  that  the  marriage  may 
end  like  a  fairy  tale:  They  were  happy  ever  after, 
and  had • —  many  —  children!  "  So  saying,  he  took  a 
pinch  of  snuff.  "But,  monsieur,"  he  added  satiri- 
cally, "you  forget  —  that  you  are  wearing  a  false 
front." 

Du  Bousquier  blushed.  The  false  front  was  hang- 
ing half  a  dozen  inches  from  his  skull.  Mademoiselle 
Cormon   raised   her  eyes,   saw  that  skull   in  all   its 


An   Old  Maid.  331 

nudity,  and  lowered  them,  abashed.  Du  Bousquier 
cast  upon  the  chevalier  the  most  venomous  look  that 
toad  ever  darted  on  its  prey. 

"Dogs  of  aristocrats,  who  despise  me,"  thought  he, 
"I  '11  crush  you  some  da}"." 

The  chevalier  thought  he  had  recovered  his  advan- 
tages.  But  Mademoiselle  Cormon  was  not  a  woman  to 
understand  the  connection  which  the  chevalier  inti- 
mated between  his  congratulatory  wish  and  the  false 
front.  Besides,  even  if  she  had  comprehended  it,  her 
word  was  passed,  her  hand  given.  Monsieur  de  Valois 
saw  at  once  that  all  was  lost.  The  innocent  woman, 
with  the  two  now  silent  men  before  her,  wished,  true 
to  her  sense  of  duty,  to  amuse  them. 

"Why  not  play  a  game  of  piquet  together?"  she 
said  artlessly,  without  the  slightest  malice. 

Du  Bousquier  smiled,  and  went,  as  the  future  master 
of  the  house,  to  fetch  the  piquet  table.  Whether  the 
Chevalier  de  (Valois  lost  his  head,  or  whether  he 
wanted  to  stay  and  study  the  causes  of  his  disaster 
and  remedy  it,  certain  it  is  that  he  allowed  himself  to 
be  led  like  a  lamb  to  the  slaughter.  He  had  received 
the  most  violent  knock-down  blow  that  ever  struck  a 
man;  any  nobleman  would  have  lost  his  senses  for 
less. 

The  Abbe  de  Sponde  and  the  Vicomte  de  Troisville 
soon  returned.  Mademoiselle  Cormon  instantly  rose, 
hurried  into  the  antechamber,  and  took  her  uncle  apart 
to  tell  him  her  resolution.  Learning  that  the  house 
in  the  rue  du  Cygne  exactly  suited  the  viscount,  she 
begged  her  future  husband  to  do  her  the  kindness  to 
tell   him   that  her   uncle   knew  it  was  for  sale.     She 


332  An   Old  Maid. 

dared  not  confide  that  lie  to  the  abbe,  fearing  his 
absent-mindedness.  The  lie,  however,  prospered 
better  than  if  it  had  been  a  virtuous  action.  In  the 
course  of  that  evening  all  Alencon  heard  the  news. 
For  the  last  four  days  the  town  had  had  as  much  to 
think  of  as  during  the  fatal  days  of  1814  and  1815. 
Some  laughed;  others  admitted  the  marriage.  These 
blamed  it;  those  approved  it.  The  middle  classes  of 
Alencon  rejoiced ;  they  regarded  it  as  a  victory.  The 
next  day,  among  friends,  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  said 
a  cruel  thing :  — 

"The   Cormons  end  as  they  began;  there's  only  a 
hand's  breadth  between  a  steward  and  a  purveyor." 


An   Old  Maid.  333 


VII. 

OTHER   RESULTS. 

The  news  of  Mademoiselle  Conxion's  choice  stabbed 
poor  Athanase  Granson  to  the  heart;  but  he  showed 
no  outward  sign  of  the  terrible  agitation  within  him. 
When  he  first  heard  of  the  marriage  he  was  at  the 
house  of  the  chief -justice,  du  Ronceret,  where  his 
mother  was  playing  boston.  Madame  Granson  looked 
at  her  son  in  a  mirror,  and  thought  him  pale;  but  he 
had  been  so  all  day,  for  a  vague  rumor  of  the  matter 
had  already  reached  him. 

Mademoiselle  Cormon  was  the  card  on  which  Atha- 
nase had  staked  his  life ;  and  the  cold  presentiment  of 
a  catastrophe  was  already  upon  him.  When  the  soul 
and  the  imagination  have  magnified  a  misfortune  and 
made  it  too  heavy  for  the  shoulders  and  the  brain  to 
bear;  when  a  hope  long  cherished,  the  realization  of 
which  would  pacify  the  vulture  feeding  on  the  heart, 
is  balked,  and  the  man  has  faith  neither  in  himself, 
despite  his  powers,  nor  in  the  future,  despite  of  the 
Divine  power, —  then  that  man  is  lost.  Athanase  was 
a  fruit  of  the  Imperial  system  of  education.  Fatal- 
ity, the  Emperor's  religion,  had  filtered  clown  from  the 
throne  to  the  lowest  ranks  of  the  army  and  the  benches 
of  the  lyceums.  Athanase  sat  still,  with  his  eyes  fixed 
on  Madame  du  Ronceret' s  cards,  in  a  stupor  that  might 
so  well  pass  for  indifference   that   Madame  Granson 


334  An   Old  Maid. 

herself  was  deceived  about  his  feelings.  This  appar- 
ent unconcern  explained  her  son's  refusal  to  make  a 
sacrifice  for  this  marriage  of  his  liberal  opinions,  —  the 
term  "liberal"  having  lately  been  created  for  the  Em- 
peror Alexander  by,  I  think,  Madame  de  Stael,  through 
the  lips  of  Benjamin  Constant. 

After  that  fatal  evening  the  young  man  took  to 
rambling  among  the  picturesque  regions  of  the  Sarthe, 
the  banks  of  which  are  much  frequented  by  sketchers 
who  come  to  Alencon  for  points  of  view.  Windmills 
are  there,  and  the  river  is  gay  in  the  meadows.  The 
shores  of  the  Sarthe  are  bordered  with  beautiful  trees, 
well  grouped.  Though  the  landscape  is  flat,  it  is  not 
without  those  modest  graces  which  distinguish  France, 
where  the  eye  is  never  wearied  by  the  brilliancy  of 
Oriental  skies,  nor  saddened  by  constant  fog.  The 
place  is  solitary.  In  the  provinces  no  one  pays  much 
attention  to  a  fine  view,  either  because  provincials  are 
biases  on  the  beauty  around  them,  or  because  they 
have  no  poesy  in  their  souls. ^  If  there  exists  in  the 
provinces  a  mall,  a  promenade,  a  vantage-ground  from 
which  a  fine  view  can  be  obtained,  that  is  the  point  to 
which  no  one  goes.  Athanase  was  fond  of  this  soli- 
tude, enlivened  by  the  sparkling  water,  where  the 
fields  were  the  first  to  green  under  the  earliest  smiling 
of  the  springtide  sun.  Those  persons  who  saw  him 
sitting  beneath  a  poplar,  and  who  noticed  the  vacant 
eye  which  he  turned  to  them,  would  say  to  Madame 
Granson : — 

"Something  is  the  matter  with  your  son." 
"I  know  what  it  is,"  the  mother  would  reply;  hint- 
ing that  he  was  meditating  over  some  great  work. 


An   Old  Maid.  335 

Athanase  no  longer  took  part  in  politics :  be  ceased 
to  have  opinions;  but  he  appeared  at  times  quite  gay, 
—  gay  with  the  satire  of  those  who  think  to  insult  a 
whole  world  with  their  own  individual  scorn.  This 
young  man,  outside  of  all  the  ideas  and  all  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  provinces,  interested  few  persons;  he  was 
not  even  an  object  of  curiosity.  If  persons  spoke  of 
him  to  his  mother,  it  was  for  her  sake,  not  his.  There 
was  not  a  single  soul  in  Alencon  that  sympathized 
with  his;  not  a  woman,  not  a  friend  came  near  to  dry 
his  tears ;  they  dropped  into  the  Sarthe.  If  the  gor- 
geous Suzanne  had  happened  that  way,  how  many 
young  miseries  might  have  been  born  of  the  meeting! 
for  the  two  would  surely  have  loved  each  other. 

She  did  come,  however.  Suzanne's  ambition  was 
early  excited  by  the  tale  of  a  strange  adventure  which 
happened  at  the  tavern  of  the  More,  —  a  tale  which  had 
taken  possession  of  her  childish  brain.  A  Parisian 
woman,  beautiful  as  the  angels,  was  sent  by  Fouche 
to  entangle  the  Marquis  de  Montauran,  otherwise  called 
"The  Gars,"  in  a  love-affair  (see  "The  Chouans"). 
She  met  him  at  the  tavern  of  the  More  on  his  return 
from  an  expedition  to  Mortagne;  she  cajoled  him, 
made  him  love  her,  and  then  betrayed  him.  That 
fantastic  power  —  the  power  of  beauty  over  mankind; 
in  fact,  the  whole  story  of  Marie  de  Verneuil  and  the 
Gars  —  dazzled  Suzanne;  she  longed  to  grow  up  in 
order  to  play  upon  men.  Some  months  after  her  hasty 
departure  she  passed  through  her  native  town  with 
an  artist  on  his  way  to  Brittany.  She  wanted  to  see 
Fougeres,  where  the  adventure  of  the  Marquis  de  Mon- 
tauran culminated,  and  to   stand  upon  the  scene  of 


336  An   Old  Maid. 

that  picturesque  war,  the  tragedies  of  which,  still  so 
little  known,  had  filled  her  childish  mind.  Besides 
this,  she  had  a  fancy  to  pass  through  Alenqon  so 
elegantly  equipped  that  no  one  could  recognize  her;  to 
put  her  mother  above  the  reach  of  necessity,  and  also 
to  send  to  poor  Athanase,  in  a  delicate  manner,  a  sum 
of  money,  —  which  in  our  age  is  to  genius  what  in  the 
middle  ages  was  the  charger  and  the  coat  of  mail  that 
Rebecca  conveyed  to  Ivanhoe. 

ODe  month  passed  away  in  the  strangest  uncertain- 
ties respecting  the  marriage  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon. 
A  party  of  unbelievers  denied  the  marriage  altogether; 
the  believers,  on  the  other  hand,  affirmed  it.  At  the 
end  of  two  weeks,  the  faction  of  unbelief  received  a 
vigorous  blow  in  the  sale  of  du  Bousquier's  house  to 
the  Marquis  de  Troisville,  who  only  wanted  a  simple 
establishment  in  Alencon,  intending  to  go  to  Paris 
after  the  death  of  the  Princess  Scherbellof;  he  pro- 
posed to  await  that  inheritance  in  retirement,  and 
then  to  reconstitute  his  estates.  This  seemed  posi- 
tive. The  unbelievers,  however,  were  not  crushed. 
They  declared  that  du  Bousquier,  married  or  not,  had 
made  an  excellent  sale,  for  the  house  had  only  cost 
him  twenty-seven  thousand  francs.  The  believers 
were  depressed  by  this  practical  observation  of  the  in- 
credulous. Choisnel,  Mademoiselle  Cormon's  notary, 
asserted  the  latter,  had  heard  nothing  about  the  mar- 
riage contract;  but  the  believers,  still  firm  in  their 
faith,  carried  off,  on  the  twentieth  day,  a  signal  vic- 
tory: Monsieur  Lepressoir,  the  notary  of  the  liberals, 
went  to  Mademoiselle  Cormon's  house,  and  the  con- 
tract was  signed. 


An   Old  Maid.  337 

This  was  the  first  of  the  numerous  sacrifices  which 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  was  destiued  to  make  to  her 
husband.  Du  Bousquier  bore  the  deepest  hatred  to 
Choisnel;  to  him  he  owed  the  refusal  of  the  hand  of 
Mademoiselle  Armande,  —  a  refusal  which,  as  he  be- 
lieved, had  influenced  that  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon. 
This  circumstance  alone  made  the  marriage  drag- 
along.  Mademoiselle  received  several  anonymous 
letters.  She  learned,  to  her  great  astonishment,  that 
Suzanne  was  as  truly  a  virgin  as  herself  so  far  as  du 
Bousquier  was  concerned,  for  that  seducer  with  the 
false  toupet  could  never  be  the  hero  of  any  such 
adventure.  Mademoiselle  Cormon  disdained  anony- 
mous letters;  but  she  wrote  to  Suzanne  herself,  on 
the  ground  of  enlightening  the  Maternity  Society. 
Suzanne,  who  had  no  doubt  heard  of  du  Bousquier's 
proposed  marriage,  acknowledged  her  trick,  sent  a 
thousand  francs  to  the  society,  and  did  all  the  harm 
she  could  to  the  old  purveyor.  Mademoiselle  Cormon 
convoked  the  Maternity  Society,  which  held  a  special 
meeting  at  which  it  was  voted  that  the  association 
would  not  in  future  assist  any  misfortunes  about  to 
happen,  but  solely  those  that  had  happened. 

In  spite  of  all  these  various  events  which  kept  the 
town  in  the  choicest  gossip,  the  banns  were  published 
in  the  churches  and  at  the  mayor's  office.  Athanase 
prepared  the  deeds.  As  a  matter  of  propriety  and 
public  decency,  the  bride  retired  to  Prebaudet,  where 
du  Bousquier,  bearing  sumptuous  and  horrible  bou- 
quets, betook  himself  every  morning,  returning  home 
for  dinner. 

At  last,  on  a  dull  and  rainy  morning  in  June,  the 

22 


338  An   Old  Maid. 

marriage  of  Mademoiselle  Cormon  and  the  Sieur  du 
Bousquier  took  place  at  noon  in  the  parish  church  of 
Alen<;on,  in  sight  of  the  whole  town.  The  bridal  pair 
went  from  their  own  houses  to  the  mayor's  office,  and 
from  the  mayor's  office  to  the  church  in  an  open  caleche, 
a  magnificent  vehicle  for  Alenqon,  which  du  Bousquier 
had  sent  for  secretly  to  Paris.  The  loss  of  the  old 
carriole  was  a  species  of  calamity  in  the  eyes  of  the 
community.  The  harness-maker  of  the  Porte  de  Se'ez 
bemoaned  it,  for  he  lost  the  fifty  francs  a  year  which 
it  cost  in  repairs.  Alen^on  saw  with  alarm  the  possi- 
bility of  luxury  being  thus  introduced  into  the  town. 
Every  one  feared  a  rise  in  the  price  of  rents  and  pro- 
visions, and  a  coming  invasion  of  Parisian  furniture. 
Some  persons  were  sufficiently  pricked  by  curiosity 
to  give  ten  sous  to  Jacquelin  to  allow  them  a  close 
inspection  of  the  vehicle  which  threatened  to  upset  the 
whole  economy  of  the  region.  A  pair  of  horses, 
bought  in  Normandie,  were  also  most  alarming. 

"If  we  bought  our  own  horses,"  said  the  Ronceret 
circle,  "we  couldn't  sell  them  to  those  who  come  to 
buy." 

Stupid  as  it  was,  this  reasoning  seemed  sound ;  for 
surely  such  a  course  would  prevent  the  region  from 
grasping  the  money  of  foreigners.'  In  the  eyes  of  the 
provinces  wealth  consists  less  in  the  rapid  turning 
over  of  money  than  in  sterile  accumulation.  It  may 
be  mentioned  here  that  Penelope  succumbed  to  a 
pleurisy  which  she  acquired  about  six  weeks  before 
the  marriage;  nothing  could  save  her. 

Madame  Granson,  Mariette,  Madame  du  Coudrai, 
Madame  du  Ronceret,  and   through   them   the  whole 


An  Old  Maid.  339 

town,  remarked  that  Madame  du  Bousquier  entered  the 
church  with  her  left  foot,  —  an  omen  all  the  more 
dreadful  because  the  term  Left  was  beginning  to  ac- 
quire a  political  meaning.  The  priest  whose  duty  it 
was  to  read  the  opening  formula  opened  his  book  by 
chance  at  the  De  Profundus.  Thus  the  marriage  wa3 
accompanied  by  circumstances  so  fateful,  so  alarming, 
so  annihilating  that  no  one  dared  to  augur  well  of  it. 
Matters,  in  fact,  went  from  bad  to  worse.  There  was 
no  wedding  party;  the  married  pair  departed  immedi- 
ately for  Prebaudet.  Parisian  customs,  said  the  com- 
munity, were  about  to  triumph  over  time-honored 
provincial  ways. 

The  marriage  of  Jacquelin  and  Josette  now  took 
place :  it  was  gay ;  and  they  were  the  only  two  persons 
in  Alencon  who  refuted  the  sinister  prophecies  relat- 
ing to  the  marriage  of  their  mistress. 

Du  Bousquier  determined  to  use  the  proceeds  of  the 
sale  of  his  late  residence  in  restoring  and  modernizing 
the  hotel  Cormon.  He  decided  to  remain  through  two 
seasons  at  Prebaudet,  and  took  the  Abbe  de  Sponde 
with  them.  This  news  spread  terror  through  the  town, 
where  every  individual  felt  that  du  Bousquier  was 
about  to  drag  the  community  into  the  fatal  path  of 
"comfort."  This  fear  increased  when  the  inhabitants 
of  Alengon  saw  the  bridegroom  driving  in  from  Pre- 
baudet one  morning  to  inspect  his  works,  in  a  fine 
tilbury  drawn  by  a  new  horse,  having  Rene  at  his 
side  in  livery.  The  first  act  of  his  administration 
had  been  to  place  his  wife's  savings  on  the  Grand- 
Livre,  which  was  then  quoted  at  67  fr.  50  cent.  In 
the  space  of  one  year,  during  which  he  played  con- 


340  An   Old  Maid. 

stantly  for  a  rise,  he  made  himself  a  personal  fortune 
almost  as  considerable  as  that  of  his  wife. 

But  all  these  foreboding  prophecies,  these  perturb- 
ing innovations,  were  superseded  and  surpassed  by 
an  event  connected  with  this  marriage  which  gave  a 
still  more  fatal  aspect  to  it. 

On  the  very  evening  of  the  ceremony,  Athanase  and 
his  mother  were  sitting,  after  their  dinner,  over  a  little 
fire  of  fagots,  which  the  servant  lighted  usually  at 
dessert. 

"Well,  we  will  go  this  evening  to  the  du  Roncerets', 
inasmuch  as  we  have  lost  Mademoiselle  Cormon,"  said 
Madame  Granson.  "  Heavens !  how  shall  I  ever  accus- 
tom myself  to  call  her  Madame  du  Bousquier!  that 
name  burns  my  lips." 

Athanase  looked  at  his  mother  with  a  constrained 
and  melancholy  air;  he  could  not  smile;  but  he 
seemed  to  wish  to  welcome  that  naive  sentiment  which 
soothed  his  wound,  though  it  could  not  cure  his 
anguish. 

"Mamma,"  he  said,  in  the  voice  of  his  childhood, 
so  tender  was  it,  and  using  the  name  he  had  abandoned 
for  several  years,  — "my  dear  mamma,  do  not  let  us 
go  out  just  yet;  it  is  so  pleasant  here  before  the 
fire." 

The  mother  heard,  without  comprehending,  that 
supreme  prayer  of  a  mortal  sorrow. 

"Yes,  let  us  stay,  my  child,"  she  said.  "I  like 
much  better  to  talk  with  you  and  listen  to  your  pro- 
jects than  to  play  at  boston  and  lose  my  money." 

"You  are  so  handsome  to-night  I  love  to  look  at 
you.     Besides,  I  am  in  a  current  of  ideas  which  har- 


An   Old  Maid.  341 

monize  with  this  poor  little  salon  where  we  have 
suffered  so  much." 

"And  where  we  shall  still  suffer,  my  poor  Athanase, 
until  your  works  succeed.  For  myself,  I  am  trained 
to  poverty;  but  you,  my  treasure!  to  see  your  youth 
go  by  without  a  joy!  nothing  but  toil  for  my  poor  boy 
in  life!  That  thought  is  like  an  illness  to  a  mother; 
it  tortures  me  at  night;  it  wakes  me  in  the  morning. 
O  God!  what  have  I  done?  for  what  crime  dost  thou 
punish  me  thus?  " 

She  left  her  sofa,  took  a  little  chair,  and  sat  close 
to  Athanase,  so  as  to  lay  her  head  on  the  bosom  of 
her  child.  There  is  always  the  grace  of  love  in  true 
motherhood.  Athanase  kissed  her  on  the  e}Tes,  on  her 
gray  hair,  on  her  forehead,  with  the  sacred  desire  of 
laying  his  soul  wherever  he  applied  his  lips. 

"I  shall  never  succeed,"  he  said,  trying  to  deceive 
his  mother  as  to  the  fatal  resolution  he  was  revolving 
in  his  mind. 

"Pooh!  don't  get  discouraged.  As  you  often  say, 
thought  can  do  all  things.  With  ten  bottles  of  ink, 
ten  reams  of  paper,  and  his  powerful  will,  Luther 
upset  all  Europe.  Well,  you  '11  make  yourself  famous ; 
you*will  do  good  things  by  the  same  means  which  he 
used  to  do  evil  things.  Have  n't  you  said  so  your- 
self ?  For  my  part,  I  listen  to  you ;  I  understand  you 
a  great  deal  more  than  you  think  I  do, —  for  I  still  bear 
you  in  my  bosom,  and  your  every  thought  still  stirs 
me  as  your  slightest  motion  did  in  other  days." 

"I  shall  never  succeed  here,  mamma;  and  I  don't 
want  you  to  witness  the  sight  of  my  struggles,  my 
misery,  my  anguish.  Oh,  mother,  let  me  leave 
Alemjon!  I  want  to  suffer  away  from  you." 


342  An   Old  Maid. 


u 


And  I  wish  to  be  at  your  side,"  replied  his  mother, 
proudly.  "Suffer  without  your  mother!  —  that  poor 
mother  who  would  be  your  servant  if  necessary;  who 
will  efface  herself  rather  than  injure  you;  your  mother, 
who  will  never  shame  you.  No,  no,  Athanase;  we 
must  not  part." 

Athanase  clung  to  his  mother  with  the  ardor  of  a 
dying  man  who  clings  to  life. 

"But  I  wish  it,  nevertheless.  If  not,  you  will  lose 
me;  this  double  grief,  yours  and  mine,  is  killing  me. 
You  would  rather  I  lived  than  died  ? " 

Madame  Granson  looked  at  her  son  with  a  hag- 
gard eye. 

"So  this  is  what  you  have  been  brooding?  "  she  said. 
"They  told  me  right.     Do  you  really  mean  to  go?  " 

"Yes." 

"You  will  not  go  without  telling  me;  without  warn- 
ing me?  You  must  have  an  outfit  and  money.  I  have 
some  louis  sewn  into  my  petticoat;  I  shall  give  them 
to  you." 

Athanase  wept. 

"That's  all  I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  he  said.  "Now 
I  '11  take  you  to  the  du  Roncerets'.     Come." 

The  mother  and  the  son  went  out.  Athanase  left  his 
mother  at  the  door  of  the  house  where  she  intended  to 
pass  the  evening.  He  looked  long  at  the  light  which 
came  through  the  shutters;  he  clung  closely  to  the 
wall,  and  a  frenzied  joy  came  over  him  when  he  pres- 
ently heard  his  mother  say,  "He  has  great  independ- 
ence of  heart. 

"Poor  mother!  I  have  deceived  her,"  he  cried,  as 
he  made  his  way  to  the  Sarthe. 


An   Old  Maid.  343 

He  reached  the  noble  poplar  beneath  which  he  had 
meditated  so  much  for  the  last  forty  days,  and  where 
he  had  placed  two  heavy  stones  on  which  he  now  sat 
down.  He  contemplated  that  beautiful  nature  lighted 
by  the  moon;  he  reviewed  once  more  the  glorious 
future  he  had  longed  for;  he  passed  through  towns 
that  were  stirred  by  his  name ;  he  heard  the  applaud- 
ing crowds ;  he  breathed  the  incense  of  his  fame ;  he 
adored  that  life  long  dreamed  of;  radiant,  he  sprang  to 
radiant  triumphs;  he  raised  his  statue;  he  evoked  his 
illusions  to  bid  them  farewell  in  a  last  Olympic  feast. 
The  magic  had  been  potent  for  a  moment;  but  now  it 
vanished  forever.  In  that  awful  hour  he  clung  to  the 
beautiful  tree  to  which,  as  to  a  friend,  he  had  attached 
himself;  then  he  put  the  two  stones  into  the  pockets 
of  his  overcoat,  which  he  buttoned  across  his  breast. 
He  had  come  intentionally  without  a  hat.  He  now 
went  to  the  deep  pool  he  had  long  selected,  and  glided 
into  it  resolutely,  trying  to  make  as  little  noise  as 
possible,  and,  in  fact,  making  scarcely  any. 

When,  at  half-past  nine  o'clock,  Madame  Granson 
returned  home,  her  servant  said  nothing  of  Athanase, 
but  gave  her  a  letter.  She  opened  it  and  read  these 
few  words,  — 

"My  good  mother,  I  have  departed;  don't  be  angry 
with  me." 

"A  pretty  trick  he  has  played  me!"  she  thought. 
"And  his  linen!  and  the  money!  Well,  he  will  write 
to  me,  and  then  I  '11  follow  him.  These  poor  children 
think  they  are  so  much  cleverer  than  their  fathers  and 
mothers." 

And  she  went  to  bed  in  peace. 


344  An   Old  Maid. 

During  the  preceding  morning  the  Sarthe  had  risen 
to  a  height  foreseen  by  the  fisherman.  These  sudden 
rises  of  muddy  water  brought  eels  from  their  various 
runlets.  It  so  happened  that  a  fisherman  had  spread 
his  net  at  the  very  place  where  poor  Athanase  had 
flung  himself,  believing  that  no  one  would  ever  find 
him.  About  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  man  drew 
in  his  net,  and  with  it  the  young  body.  The  few 
friends  of  the  poor  mother  took  every  precaution  in 
preparing  her  to  receive  the  dreadful  remains.  The 
news  of  this  suicide  made,  as  may  well  be  supposed, 
a  great  excitement  in  Alencon.  The  poor  young  man 
of  genius  had  no  protector  the  night  before,  but  on 
the  morrow  of  his  death  a  thousand  voices  cried  aloud, 
"I  would  have  helped  him."  It  is  so  easy  and  con- 
venient to  be  charitable  gratis! 

The  suicide  was  explained  by  the  Chevalier  de 
Valois.  He  revealed,  in  a  spirit  of  revenge,  the  art- 
less, sincere,  and  genuine  love  of  Athanase  for  Made- 
moiselle Cormon.  Madame  Granson,  enlightened  by 
the  chevalier,  remembered  a  thousand  little  circum- 
stances which  confirmed  the  chevalier's  statement. 
The  story  then  became  touching,  and  many  women 
wept  over  it.  Madame  Granson's  grief  was  silent, 
concentrated,  and  little  understood.  There  are  two 
forms  of  mourning  for  mothers.  Often  the  world  can 
enter  fully  into  the  nature  of  their  loss:  their  son, 
admired,  appreciated,  young,  perhaps  handsome,  with 
a  noble  path  before  him,  leading  to  fortune,  possibly 
to  fame,  excites  universal  regret;  society  joins  in  the 
grief,  and  alleviates  while'it  magnifies  it.  But  there 
is  another  sorrow  of  mothers  who  alone   know  what 


An   Old  Maid.  345 

their  child  was  really;  who  alone  have  received  his 
smiles  and  observed  the  treasures  of  a  life  too  soon 
cut  short.  That  sorrow  hides  its  woe,  the  blackness 
of  which  surpasses  all  other  mourning;  it  cannot  be  , 
described;  happily  there  are  but  few  women  whose 
heart-strings  are  thus  severed. 

Before  Madame  du  Bousquier  returned  to  town, 
Madame  du  Ronceret,  one  of  her  good  friends,  had 
driven  out  to  Prebaudet  to  fling  this  corpse  upon 
the  roses  of  her  joy,  to  show  her  the  love  she  had 
ignored,  and  sweetly  shed  a  thousand  drops  of  worm- 
wood into  the  honey  of  her  bridal  month.  As  Madame 
du  Bousquier  drove  back  to  Alengon,  she  chanced  to 
meet  Madame  Granson  at  the  corner  of  the  rue  Val- 
Noble.  The  glance  of  the  mother,  dying  of  her  grief, 
struck  to  the  heart  of  the  poor  woman.  A  thousand 
maledictions,  a  thousand  flaming  reproaches,  were  in 
that  look:  Madame  du  Bousquier  was  horror-struck; 
that  glance  predicted  and  called  down  evil  upon  her 
head. 

The  evening  after  the  catastrophe,  Madame  Granson, 
one  of  the  persons  most  opposed  to  the  rector  of  the 
town,  and  who  had  hitherto  supported  the  minister  of 
Saint-Leonard,  began  to  tremble  as  she  thought  of  the 
inflexible  Catholic  doctrines  professed  by  her  own 
party.  After  placing  her  son's  body  in  its  shroud 
with  her  own  hands,  thinking  of  the  mother  of  the 
Saviour,  she  went,  with  a  soul  convulsed  by  anguish, 
to  the  house  of  the  hated  rector.  There  she  found  the 
modest  priest  in  an  outer  room,  engaged  in  putting 
away  the  flax  and  yarns  with  which  he  supplied  poor 
women,  in  order  that  they  might  never  be  wholly  out 


346  An   Old  Maid. 

of  work,  —  a  form  of  charity  which  saved  many  who 
were  incapable  of  begging  from  actual  penury.  The 
rector  left  his  yarns  and  hastened  to  take  Madame 
Granson  into  his  dining-room,  where  the  wretched 
mother  noticed,  as  she  looked  at  his  supper,  the  frugal 
method  of  his  own  living. 

"Monsieur  l'abbe,"  she  said,  "I  have  come  to  im- 
plore you  —  "    She  burst  into  tears,  unable  to  continue. 

"I  know  what  brings  you,"  replied  the  saintly  man. 
"I  must  trust  to  you,  madame,  and  to  your  relation, 
Madame  du  Bousquier,  to  pacify  Monseigneur  the 
bishop  at  Seez.  Yes,  I  will  pray  for  your  unhappy 
child ;  yes,  I  will  say  the  masses.  But  we  must  avoid 
all  scandal,  and  give  no  opportunity  for  evil-judging 
persons  to  assemble  in  the  church.  I  alone,  without 
other  clergy,  at  night  —  " 

"Yes,  yes,  as  you  think  best;  if  only  he  may  lie  in 
consecrated  ground,"  said  the  poor  mother,  taking  the 
priest's  hand  and  kissing  it. 

Toward  midnight  a  coffin  was  clandestinely  borne  to 
the  parish  church  by  four  young  men,  comrades  whom, 
Athanase  had  liked  the  best.  A  few  friends  of 
Madame  Granson,  women  dressed  in  black,  and  veiled, 
were  present;  and  half  a  dozen  other  young  men  who 
had  been  somewhat  intimate  with  this  lost  genius. 
Four  torches  flickered  on  the  coffin,  which  was  covered 
with  crape.  The  rector,  assisted  by  one  discreet  choir- 
boy, said  the  mortuary  mass.  Then  the  body  of  the 
suicide  was  noiselessly  carried  to  a  corner  of  the  ceme- 
tery, where  a  black  wooden  cross,  without  inscription, 
was  all  that  indicated  its  place  hereafter  to  the  mother. 
Athanase  lived  and  died  in  shadow.     No  voice  was 


An   Old  Maid.  347 

raised  to  blame  the  rector;  the  bishop  kept  silence. 
The  piety  of  the  mother  redeemed  the  impiety  of  the 
son's  last  act. 

Some  months  later,  the  poor  woman,  half  beside 
herself  with  grief,  and  moved  by  one  of  those  inexpli- 
cable thirsts  which  misery  feels  to  steep  its  lips  in  the 
bitter  chalice,  determined  to  see  the  spot  where  her 
son  was  drowned.  Her  instinct  may  have  told 
her  that  thoughts  of  his  could  be  recovered  beneath 
that  poplar;  perhaps,  too,  she  desired  to  see  what  his 
eyes  had  seen  for  the  last  time.  Some  mothers  would 
die  of  the  sight;  others  give  themselves  up  to  it  in 
saintly  adoration.  Patient  anatomists  of  human 
nature  cannot  too  often  enunciate  the  truths  before 
which  all  educations,  laws,  and  philosophical  systems 
must  give  way.  Let  us  repeat  continually :  it  is  absurd 
to  force  sentiments  into  one  formula:  appearing  as 
they  do,  in  each  individual  man,  they  combine  with 
the  elements  that  form  his  nature  and  take  his  own 
physiognomy. 

Madame  Granson,  as  she  stood  on  that  fatal  spot, 
saw  a  woman  approach  it,  who  exclaimed,  — 

"Was  it  here?" 

That  woman  wept  as  the  mother  wept.  It  was 
Suzanne.  Arriving  that  morning  at  the  hotel  du 
More,  she  had  been  told  of  the  catastrophe.  If  poor 
Athanase  had  been  living,  she  meant  to  do  as  many 
noble  souls,  who  are  moneyless,  dream  of  doing,  and 
as  the  rich  never  think  of  doing,  —  she  meant  to  have 
sent  him  several  thousand  francs,  writing  upon  the 
envelope  the  words:  "Money  due  to  your  father  from 
a   comrade   who   makes    restitution   to   you."     This 


348  An   Old  Maid. 

tender  scheme  had  been  arranged  by  Suzanne  during 
her  journey. 

The  courtesan  caught  sight  of  Madame  Granson  and 
moved  rapidly  away,  whispering  as  she  passed  her, 
k'I  loved  him!" 

Suzanne,  faithful  to  her  nature,  did  not  leave  Alen- 
con  on  this  occasion  without  changing  the  orange- 
blossoms  of  the  bride  to  rue.  She  was  the  first  to 
declare  that  Madame  du  Bousquier  would  never  be 
anything  but  Mademoiselle  Corinon.  With  one  stab 
of  her  tongue  she  revenged  poor  Athanase  and  her 
dear  chevalier. 

Alencon  now  witnessed  a  suicide  that  was  slower 
and  quite  differently  pitiful  from  that  of  poor  Atha- 
nase, who  was  quickly  forgotten  by  society,  which 
always  makes  haste  to  forget  its  dead.  The  poor 
Chevalier  de  Valois  died  in  life;  his  suicide  was  a 
daily  occurrence  for  fourteen  years.  Three  months  after 
the  du  Bousquier  marriage  society  remarked,  not  with- 
out astonishment,  that  the  linen  of  the  chevalier  was 
frayed  and  rusty,  that  his  hair  was  irregularly  combed 
and  brushed.  With  a  frowsy  head  the  Chevalier  de 
Valois  could  no  longer  be  said  to  exist!  A  few  of  his 
ivory  teeth  deserted,  though  the  keenest  observers  of 
human  life  were  unable  to  discover  to  what  body  they 
had  hitherto  belonged,  whether  to  a  foreign  legion  or 
whether  they  were  indigenous,  vegetable  or  animal; 
whether  age  had  pulled  them  from  the  chevalier's 
mouth,  or  whether  they  were  left  forgotten  in  the 
drawer  of  his  dressing-table.  The  cravat  was  crooked, 
indifferent  to  elegance.  The  negroes'  heads  grew  pale 
with  dust  and  grease.     The  wrinkles  of  the  face  were 


An   Old  Maid.  349 

blackened  and  puckered ;  the  skin  became  parchment. 
The  nails,  neglected,  were  often  seen,  alas!  with  a 
black  velvet  edging.  The  waistcoat  was  tracked  and 
stained  with  droppings  which  spread  upon  its  surface 
like  autumn  leaves.  The  cotton  in  the  ears  was  sel- 
dom changed.  Sadness  reigned  upon  that  brow,  and 
slipped  its  yellowing  tints  into  the  depths  of  each 
furrow.  In  short,  the  ruins,  hitherto  so  cleverly 
hidden,  now  showed  through  the  cracks  and  crevices  of 
that  fine  edifice,  and  proved  the  power  of  the  soul  over 
the  body;  for  the  fair  and  dainty  man,  the  cavalier,  the 
young  blood,  died  when  hope  deserted  him.  Until  then 
the  nose  of  the  chevalier  was  ever  delicate  and  nice; 
never  had  a  damp  black  blotch,  nor  an  amber  drop 
fallen  from  it ;  but  now  that  nose,  smeared  with  tobacco 
around  the  nostrils,  degraded  by  the  driblets  which 
took  advantage  of  the  natural  gutter  placed  between 
itself  and  the  upper  lip,  —  that  nose,  which  no  longer 
cared  to  seem  agreeable,  revealed  the  infinite  pains 
which  the  chevalier  had  formerly  taken  with  his  per- 
son, and  made  observers  comprehend,  by  the  extent 
of  its  degradation,  the  greatness  and  persistence  of  the 
man's  designs  upon  Mademoiselle  Cormon. 

Alas,  too,  the  anecdotes  went  the  way  of  the  teeth ; 
the  clever  sayings  grew  rare.  The  appetite,  however, 
remained;  the  old  nobleman  saved  nothing  but  his 
stomach  from  the  wreck  of  his  hopes ;  though  he  lan- 
guidly prepared  his  pinches  of  snuff,  he  ate  alarming 
dinners.  Perhaps  you  will  more  fully  understand  the 
disaster  that  this  marriage  was  to  the  mind  and  heart 
of  the  chevalier  when  you  learn  that  his  intercourse 
with  the  Princess  Goritza  became  less  frequent. 


350  An  Old  Maid. 

One  day  he  appeared  in  Mademoiselle  Armande's 
salon  with  the  calf  of  his  leg  on  the  shin-bone.  This 
bankruptcy  of  the  graces  was,  I  do  assure  you,  terri- 
ble, and  struck  all  Alencon  with  horror.  The  late 
young  man  had  become  an  old  one;  this  human  being, 
who,  by  the  breaking-down  of  his  spirit,  had  passed 
at  once  from  fifty  to  ninety  years  of  age,  frightened 
society.  Besides,  his  secret  was  betrayed;  he  had 
waited  and  watched  for  Mademoiselle  Cormon;  he 
had,  like  a  patient  hunter,  adjusted  his  aim  for  ten 
whole  years,  and  finally  had  missed  the  game!  In 
short,  the  impotent  Republic  had  won  the  day  from 
Valiant  Chivalry,  and  that,  too,  under  the  Restoration! 
Form  triumphed ;  mind  was  vanquished  by  matter, 
diplomacy  by  insurrection.  And,  O  final  blow!  a 
mortified  grisette  revealed  the  secret  of  the  chevalier's 
mornings,  and  he  now  passed  for  a  libertine.  The 
liberals  cast  at  his  door  all  the  foundlings  hitherto 
attributed  to  du  Bousquier.  But  the  faubourg  Saint- 
Germain  of  Alencon  accepted  them  proudly:  it  even 
said,  "That  poor  chevalier,  what  else  could  he  do?" 
The  faubourg  pitied  him,  gathered  him  closer  to  their 
circle,  and  brought  back  a  few  rare  smiles  to  his  face; 
but  frightful  enmity  was  piled  upon  the  head  of  du 
Bousquier.  Eleven  persons  deserted  the  Cormon  salon, 
and  passed  to  that  of  the  d'Esgrignons. 

The  old  maid's  marriage  had  a  signal  effect  in 
defining  the  two  parties  in  Alencon.  The  salon 
d'Esgrignon  represented  the  upper  aristocracy  (the 
returning  Troisvilles  attached  themselves  to  it);  the 
Cormon  salon  represented,  under  the  clever  influence  of 
du  Bousquier,  that  fatal  class  of  opinions  which,  with- 


An  Old  Maid.  351 

out  being  truly  liberal  or  resolutely  royalist,  gave 
birth  to  the  221  on  the  famous  day  when  the  struggle 
openly  began  between  the  most  august,  grandest,  and 
only  true  power,  royalty,  and  the  most  false,  most 
changeful,  most  oppressive  of  all  powers,  —  the  power 
called  parliamentary,  which  elective  assemblies  exer- 
cise. The  salon  du  Ronceret,  secretly  allied  to  the 
Cormon  salon,   was  boldly  liberal. 

The  Abbe  de  Sponde,  after  his  return  from  Pre- 
baudet,  bore  many  and  continual  sufferings,  which  he 
kept  within  his  breast,  saying  no  word  of  them  to  his 
niece.  But  to  Mademoiselle  Armande  he  opened  his 
heart,  admitting  that,  folly  for  folly,  he  would  much 
have  preferred  the  Chevalier  de  Valois  to  Monsieur  du 
Bousquier.  Never  would  the  dear  chevalier  have  had 
the  bad  taste  to  contradict  and  oppose  a  poor  old  man 
who  had  but  a  few  days  more  to  live ;  du  Bousquier 
had  destroyed  everything  in  the  good  old  home.  The 
abbe  said,  with  scanty  tears  moistening  his  aged 
eyes,  — 

"Mademoiselle,  I  have  n't  even  the  little  grove  where 
I  have  walked  for  fifty  years.  My  beloved  lindens 
are  all  cut  down!  At  the  moment  of  my  death  the 
Republic  appears  to  me  more  than  ever  under  the  form 
of  a  horrible  destruction  of  the  Home." 

"You  must  pardon  your  niece,"  said  the  Chevalier 
de  Valois.  "Republican  ideas  are  the  first  error  of 
youth  which  seeks  for  liberty;  later  it  finds  it  the 
worst  of  despotisms,  —  that  of  an  impotent  canaille. 
Your  poor  niece  is  punished  where  she  sinned." 

"What  will  become  of  me  in  a  house  where  naked 
women  are  painted  on  the  walls  ?  "  said  the  poor  abbe. 


352  An   Old  Maid. 

"Where  shall  I  find  other   lindens  beneath  which  to 
read  my  breviary?  " 

Like  Kant,  who  was  unable  to  collect  his  thoughts 
after  the  fir-tree  at  which  he  was  accustomed  to  gaze 
while  meditating  was  cut  down,  so  the  poor  abbe 
could  never  attaiu  the  ardor  of  his  former  prayers 
while  walking  up  and  down  the  shadeless  paths.  Du 
Bousquier  had  planted  an  English  garden. 

"It  was  best,"  said  Madame  du  Bousquier,  without 
thinking  so;  but  the  Abbe  Couturier  had  authorized 
her  to  commit  many  wrongs  to  please  her  husband. 

These  restorations  destroyed  all  the  venerable  dig- 
nity, cordiality,  and  patriarchal  air  of  the  old  house. 
Like  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  whose  personal  neglect 
might  be  called  an  abdication,  the  bourgeois  dignity 
of  the  Cormon  salon  existed  no  longer  when  it  was 
turned  to  white  and  gold,  with  mahogany  ottomans 
covered  in  blue  satin.  The  dining-room,  adorned 
in  modern  taste,  was  colder  in  tone  than  it  used  to  be, 
and  the  dinners  were  eaten  with  less  appetite  than 
formerly.  Monsieur  du  Coudrai  declared  that  he  felt 
his  puns  stick  in  his  throat  as  he  glanced  at  the  figures 
painted  on  the  walls,  which  looked  him  out  of  counte- 
nance. External^,  the  house  was  still  provincial; 
but  internally  everything  revealed  the  purveyor  of  the 
Directory  and  the  bad  taste  of  the  money-changer,  — 
for  instance,  columns  in  stucco,  glass  doors,  Greek 
mouldings,  meaningless  outlines,  all  styles  conglom- 
erated, magnificence  oat  of  place  and  out  of  season. 

The  town  of  Alenqon  gabbled  for  two  weeks  over 
this  luxury,  which  seemed  unparalleled;  but  a  few 
months  later  the  community  was  proud  of  it,  and  sev- 


An    Old  Maid.  353 

eral  rich  manufacturers  restored  their  houses  and  set 
up  fine  salons.  Modern  furniture  came  into  the  town, 
and  astral  lamps  were  seen! 

The  Abbe  de  Sponde  was  among  the  first  to  perceive 
the  secret  un happiness  this  marriage  now  brought  to 
the  private  life  of  his  beloved  niece.     The  character 
of  noble  simplicity  which  had  hitherto  ruled  their  lives 
was  lost  during  the  first  winter,   when  du  Bousquier 
gave  two  balls  every  month.     Oh,  to  hear  violins  and 
profane  music  at  these  worldly  entertainments  in  the 
sacred   old   house!     The    abbe    prayed   on  his   knees 
while  the  revels  lasted.     Next  the  political  system  of 
the    sober    salon   was    slowly  perverted.       The    abbe 
fathomed  du  Bousquier;  he  shuddered  at  his  imperi- 
ous tone;  he  saw  the  tears  in  his  niece's  eyes  when 
she  felt  herself  losing  all  control  over  her  own  prop- 
erty; for  her  husband  now  left  nothing  in  her  hands 
but  the  management  of  the  linen,  the  table,  and  things 
of  a  kind  which  are  the  lot  of  women.     Rose  had  no 
longer  any  orders  to  give.     Monsieur's  will  was  alone 
regarded   by   Jacquelin,   now    become    coachman,    by 
Rene,  the  groom,  and  by  the  chef,  who  came  from  Paris, 
Mariette  being  reduced  to  kitchen  maid.     Madame  du 
Bousquier  had  no  one  to  rule  but  Josette.   Who  knows 
what  it  costs  to  relinquish  the  delights  of  power?     If 
the    triumph    of   the  will    is  one  of    the  intoxicating 
pleasures  in  the  lives  of  great  men,  it  is  the  all  of  life 
to  narrow  minds.     One  must  needs  have  been  a  minis- 
ter dismissed    from  power  to  comprehend    the   bitter 
pain  which  came  upon  Madame  du  Bousquier  when  she 
found  herself  reduced  to  this  absolute  servitude.     She 
often  got  into  the  carriage  against  her  will ;  she  saw 

23 


354  An   Old  Maid. 

herself  surrounded  by  servants  who  were  distasteful  to 
her;  she  no  longer  had  the  handling  of  her  dear  money, 
—  she  who  had  known  herself  free  to  spend  money, 
and  did  not  spend  it. 

All  imposed  limits  make  the  human  being  desire  to 
go  beyond  them.  The  keenest  sufferings  come  from 
the  thwarting  of  self-will.  The  beginning  of  this 
state  of  things  was,  however,  rose-colored.  Every 
concession  made  to  marital  authority  was  an  effect  of 
the  love  which  the  poor  woman  felt  for  her  husband. 
Du  Bousquier  behaved,  in  the  first  instance,  admirably 
to  his  wife:  he  was  wise;  he  was  excellent;  he  gave 
her  the  best  of  reasons  for  each  new  encroachment. 
So  for  the  first  two  years  of  her  marriage  Madame  du 
Bousquier  appeared  to  be  satisfied.  She  had  that 
deliberate,  demure  little  air  which  distinguishes  youug 
women  who  have  married  for  love.  The  rush  of  blood 
to  her  head  no  longer  tormented  her.  This  appear- 
ance of  satisfaction  routed  the  scoffers,  contradicted 
certain  rumors  about  du  Bousquier,  and  puzzled  all 
observers  of  the  human  heart.  Rose -Marie- Victoire 
was  so  afraid  that  if  she  displeased  her  husband  or 
opposed  him,  she  would  lose  his  affection  and  be  de- 
prived of  his  company,  that  she  would  willing!}7  have 
sacrificed  all  to  him,  even  her  uncle.  Her  silly  little 
forms  of  pleasure  deceived  even  the  poor  abbe  for  a 
time,  who  endured  his  own  trials  all  the  better  for 
thinking  that  his  niece  was  happy,  after  all. 

Alencon  at  first  thought  the  same.  But  there  was 
one  man  more  difficult  to  deceive  than  the  whole  town 
put  together.  The  Chevalier  de  Valois,  who  had  taken 
refuge  on  the  Sacred  Mount  of  the  upper  aristocracy, 


An   Old  Maid.  355 

now  passed  his  life  at  the  d'Esgrignons.  He  listened 
to  the  gossip  and  the  gabble,  and  he  thought  day  and 
night  upon  his  vengeance.  He  meant  to  strike  du 
Bousquier  to  the  heart. 

The  poor  abbe  fully  understood  the  baseness  of  this 
first  and  last  love  of  his  niece;  he  shuddered  as,  little 
by  little,  he  perceived  the  hypocritical  nature  of  his 
nephew  and  his  treacherous  manoeuvres.  Though  du 
Bousquier  restrained  himself,  as  he  thought  of  the 
abbe's  property,  and  wished  not  to  cause  him  vexa- 
tion, it  was  his  hand  that  dealt  the  blow  that  sent  the 
old  priest  to  his  grave.  If  you  will  interpret  the  word 
intolerance  as  firmness  of  principle,  if  }tou  do  not  wish 
to  condemn  in  the  catholic  soul  of  the  Abbe  de  Sponde 
the  stoicism  which  Walter  Scott  has  made  you  admire 
in  the  puritan  soul  of  Jeanie  Deans'  father;  if  you 
are  willing  to  recognize  in  the  Roman  Church  the 
Potius  mori  quam  fcedari  which  you  admire  in  repub- 
lican tenets,  —  you  will  understand  the  sorrow  of  the 
Abbe  de  Sponde  when  he  saw  in  his  niece's  salon 
the  apostate  priest,  the  renegade,  the  pervert,  the 
heretic,  that  enemy  of  the  Church,  the  guilty  taker  of 
the  Constitutional  oath.  Du  Bousquier,  whose  secret 
ambition  was  to  lay  down  the  law  to  the  town,  wished, 
as  a  first  proof  of  his  power,  to  reconcile  the  minister 
of  Saint-Leonard  with  the  rector  of  the  parish,  and 
he  succeeded.  His  wife  thought  he  had  accomplished 
a  work  of  peace  where  the  immovable  abbe  saw  only 
treachery.  The  bishop  came  to  visit  du  Bousquier, 
and  seemed  glad  of  the  cessation  of  hostilities.  The 
virtues  of  the  Abbe  Franqois  had  conquered  prejudice, 
except  that  of  the  aged  Roman  Catholic,  who  exclaimed 


356  An   Old  Maid. 

with  Corneille,  "Alas!  what  virtues  do  you  make  me 
hate !  " 

The  abbe  died  when  orthodoxy  thus  expired  in  the 
diocese. 

In  1819,  the  property  of  the  Abbe  de  Sponde  in- 
creased Madame  du  Bousquier's  income  from  real 
estate  to  twenty-five  thousand  francs  without  counting 
Prebaudet  or  the  house  in  the  Val-Noble.  About  this 
time  du  Bousquier  returned  to  his  wife  the  capital  of 
her  savings  which  she  had  yielded  to  him;  and  he 
made  her  use  it  in  purchasing  lands  contiguous  to 
Prebaudet,  which  made  that  domain  one  of  the  most 
considerable  in  the  department,  for  the  estates  of  the 
Abbe  de  Sponde  also  adjoined  it.  Du  Bousquier  thus 
passed  for  one  of  the  richest  men  of  the  department. 
This  able  man,  the  constant  candidate  of  the  liberals, 
missing  by  seven  or  eight  votes  only  in  all  the  electoral 
battles  fought  under  the  Restoration,  and  who  osten- 
sibly repudiated  the  liberals  by  trying  to  be  elected 
as  a  ministerial  royalist  (without  ever  being  able 
to  conquer  the  aversion  of  the  administration),  — this 
rancorous  republican,  mad  with  ambition,  resolved  to 
rival  the  royalism  and  aristocracy  of  Alencon  at  the 
moment  when  they  once  more  had  the  upper  hand.  He 
strengthened  himself  with  the  Church  by  the  deceit- 
ful appearance  of  a  well-feigned  piety:  he  accom- 
panied his  wife  to  mass ;  he  gave  money  for  the  con- 
vents of  the  town ;  he  assisted  the  congregation  of  the 
Sacre-Coeur;  he  took  sides  with  the  clergy  on  all 
occasions  when  the  clergy  came  into  collision  with 
the  town,  the  department,  or  the  State.  Secretly  sup- 
ported by  the  liberals,  protected  by  the  Church,  call- 


An   Old  Maid.  357 

ing  himself  a  constitutional  royalist,  he  kept  beside 
the  aristocracy  of  the  department  in  the  one  hope  of 
ruining  it,  —  and  he  did  ruin  it.  Ever  on  the  watch 
for  the  faults  and  blunders  of  the  nobility  and  the 
government,  he  laid  plans  for  his  vengeance  against 
the  "chateau-people,"  and  especially  against  the 
d'Esgrignons,  in  whose  bosom  he  was  one  day  to 
thrust  a  poisoned  dagger. 

Among  other  benefits  to  the  town  he  gave  money 
liberally  to  revive  the  manufacture  of  point  d'Alengon  ; 
he  renewed  the  trade  in  linens,  and  the  town  had  a 
factory.  Inscribing  himself  thus  upon  the  interests 
and  heart  of  the  masses,  b}'  doing  what  the  royalists 
did  not  do,  du  Bousquier  did  not  really  risk  a  farthing. 
Backed  by  his  fortune,  he  could  afford  to  wait  results 
which  enterprising  persons  who  involve  themselves  are 
forced  to  abandon  to  luckier  successors. 

Du  Bousquier  now  posed  as  a  banker.  This  minia- 
ture Laffitte  was  a  partner  in  all  new  enterprises, 
taking  good  security.  He  served  himself  while  appar- 
ently serving  the  interests  of  the  community.  He  was 
the  prime  mover  of  insurance  companies,  the  protector 
of  new  enterprises  for  public  conveyance;  he  sug- 
gested petitions  asking  the  administration  for  the 
necessary  roads  and  bridges.  Thus  warned,  the 
government  considered  this  action  an  encroachment 
on  its  own  authority.  A  struggle  was  begun  injudi- 
ciously, for  the  good  of  the  community  compelled  the 
authorities  to  yield  in  the  end.  Du  Bousquier  embit- 
tered the  provincial  nobility  against  the  court  nobility 
and  the  peerage;  and  finally  he  brought  about  the 
shocking  adhesion  of  a  strong  party  of  constitutional 


358  An   Old  Maid. 

royalists  to  the  warfare  sustained  by  the  "Journal  des 
Debats,"  and  M.  de  Chateaubriand  against  the 
throne,  —  an  ungrateful  opposition  based  on  ignoble 
interests,  which  was  one  cause  of  the  triumph  of  the 
bourgeoisie  and  journalism  in  1830. 

Thus  du  Bousquier,  in  common  with  the  class  he 
represented,  had  the  satisfaction  of  beholding  the 
funeral  of  royalty.  The  old  republican,  smothered 
with  masses,  who  for  fifteen  years  had  played  that 
comedy  to  satisfy  his  vendetta,  himself  threw  down 
with  his  own  hand  the  white  flag  of  the  mayoralty  to 
the  applause  of  the  multitude.  No  man  in  France 
cast  upon  the  new  throne  raised  in  August,  1830,  a 
glance  of  more  intoxicated,  joyous  vengeance.  The 
accession  of  the  Younger  Branch  was  the  triumph  of 
the  Revolution.  To  him  the  victory  of  the  tricolor 
meant  the  resurrection  of  the  Montague,  which  this 
time  should  surely  bring  the  nobility7  down  to  the  dust 
by  means  more  certain  than  that  of  the  guillotine, 
because  less  violent.  The  peerage  without  heredity ; 
the  National  Guard,  which  puts  on  the  same  camp-bed 
the  corner  grocer  and  the  marquis;  the  abolition  of 
entails  demanded  by  a  bourgeois  lawyer;  the  Catholic 
Church  deprived  of  its  supremacy;  and  all  the  other 
legislative  inventions  of  August,  1830,  —  were  to  du 
Bousquier  the  wisest  possible  application  of  the  prin- 
ciples of  1793. 

Since  1830  this  man  has  been  a  receiver-general. 
He  relied  for  his  advancement  on  his  relations  with 
the  Due  cV Orleans,  father  of  Louis  Philippe,  and  with 
Monsieur  de  Folmon,  formerly  steward  to  the  Duchess- 
dowager  of  Orleans.     He  receives  about  eighty  thou- 


An   Old  Maid.  '  359 

sand  francs  a  year.     In  the  eyes  of  the  people  about 
him  Monsieur  clu  Bousquier  is  a  man  of  means,  —  a 
respectable  man,  steady  in  his  principles,  upright,  and 
obliging.     Alenqon  owes  to  him  its  connection  with 
the  industrial  movement  by  which  Brittany  may  pos- 
sibly some  day  be  joined  to  what  is  popularly  called 
modern  civilization.     Alencon,  which  up  to  1816  could 
boast    of   only    two   private    carriages,    saw,  without 
amazement,  in  the  course  of  ten  3Tears,  coupes,  landaus, 
tilburies,   and    cabriolets  rolling  through  her  streets. 
The  burghers    and    the   land-owners,  alarmed  at  first 
lest  the  price  of   everything   should   increase,  recog- 
nized later  that  this  increase  in  the  style  of  living  had 
a  contrary  effect  upon  their  revenues.     The  prophetic 
remark    of   du   Ronceret,    "Du   Bousquier  is   a  very 
strong  man,"  was  adopted  by  the  whole  country-side. 
But,  unhappily  for  the  wife,  that  saying  has  a  double 
meaning.     The  husband  does  not  in  any  way  resem- 
ble  the    public   politician.       This    great    citizen,    so 
liberal   to  the  world  about  him,    so  kindly  inspired 
with    love   for   his  native  place,  is    a   despot   in   his 
own  house,  and  utterly  devoid  of  conjugal  affection. 
This  man,  so  profoundly  astute,  hypocritical,  and  sly; 
this  Cromwell  of  the  Val-Noble, —  behaves  in  his  home 
as  he  behaves  to  the  aristocracy,  whom  he  caresses  in 
hopes  to  throttle  them.     Like  his  friend  Bernadotte, 
he  wears  a  velvet  glove  upon  his  iron  hand.     His  wife 
has  given  him  no  children.     Suzanne's  remark  and  the 
chevalier's  insinuations  were  therefore  justified.     But 
the    liberal    bourgeoisie,    the   constitutional-royalist- 
bourgeoisie,  the  country  squires,  the  magistracy,  and 
the  "church   party"  laid    the    blame  on  Madame  du 


360  An  Old  Maid. 

Bousquier.  "She  was  too  old,"  they  said;  "Monsieur 
du  Bousquier  had  married  her  too  late.  Besides,  it 
was  very  lucky  for  the  poor  woman ;  it  was  dangerous 
at  her  age  to  bear  children!"  When  Madame  du 
Bousquier  confided,  weeping,  her  periodic  despair  to 
Mesdames  du  Coudrai  and  du  Roneeret,  those  ladies 
would  reply,  — 

"But  you  are  crazy,  my  dear;  you  don't  know  what 
you  are  wishing  for;  a  child  would  be  your  death." 

Many  men,  whose  hopes  were  fastened  on  du  Bous- 
quier's  triumph,  sang  his  praises  to  their  wives,  who 
in  turn  repeated  them  to  the  poor  wife  in  some  such 
speech  as  this :  — 

"You  are  very  lucky,  dear,  to  have  married  such  an 
able  man ;  you  '11  escape  the  misery  of  women  whose 
husbands  are  men  without  energ}7,  incapable  of  man- 
aging their  property,  or  bringing  up  their  children." 

"Your  husband  is  making  you  queen  of  the  depart- 
ment, my  love.  He  '11  never  leave  you  embarrassed, 
not  he!     Why,  he  leads  all  Alencon." 

"But  I  wish,"  said  the  poor  wife,  "that  he  gave  less 
time  to  the  public  and  —  " 

"You  are  hard  to  please,  my  dear  Madame  du  Bous- 
quier. I  assure  you  that  all  the  women  in  town  envy 
you  your  husband." 

Misjudged  by  society,  wiiich  began  by  blaming  her, 
the  pious  woman  found  ample  opportunity  in  her  home 
to  display  her  virtues.  She  lived  in  tears,  but  she 
never  ceased  to  present  to  others  a  placid  face.  To 
so  Christian  a  soul  a  certain  thought  which  pecked 
forever  at  her  heart  was  a  crime:  "I  loved  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Valois,"  it  said;  "but  I  have  married  du  Bous- 


An    Old  Maid.  361 

quier."  The  love  of  poor  Athanase  Granson  also 
rose  like  a  phantom  of  remorse,  and  pursued  her  even 
iu  her  dreams.  The  death  of  her  uncle,  whose  griefs 
at  the  last  burst  forth,  made  her  life  still  more  sor- 
rowful; for  she  now  felt  the  suffering  her  uncle  must 
have  endured  in  witnessing  the  change  of  political  and 
religious  opinion  in  the  old  house.  Sorrow  often  falls 
like  a  thunderbolt,  as  it  did  on  Madame  Granson ;  but 
in  this  old  maid  it  slowly  spread  like  a  drop  of  oil, 
which  never  leaves  the  stuff  that  slowly  imbibes  it. 

The  Chevalier  de  Valois  was  the  malicious  manipu- 
lator who  brought  about  the  crowning  misfortune  of 
Madame  du  Bousquier's  life.  His  heart  was  set  on 
undeceiving  her  pious  simplicity;  for  the  chevalier, 
expert  in  love,  divined  du  Bousquier,  the  married  man, 
as  he  had  divined  du  Bousquier,  the  bachelor.  But 
the  wary  republican  was  difficult  of  attack.  His 
salon  was,  of  course,  closed  to  the  Chevalier  de  Valois, 
as  to  all  those  who,  in  the  early  days  of  his  marriage, 
had  slighted  the  Cormon  mansion.  He  was,  moreover, 
impervious  to  ridicule:  he  possessed  a  vast  fortune; 
he  reigned  in  Alencon ;  he  cared  as  little  for  his  wife 
as  Richard  III.  cared  for  the  dead  horse  which  had 
helped  him  to  win  a  battle.  To  please  her  husband, 
Madame  du  Bousquier  had  broken  off  relations  with 
the  d'Esgrignon  household,  where  she  went  no  longer, 
except  that  sometimes  when  her  husband  left  her 
during  his  trips  to  Paris,  she  would  pay  a  brief  visit 
to  Mademoiselle  Armande. 

About  three  years  after  her  marriage,  at  the  time  of 
the  Abbe  de  Sponde's  death,  Mademoiselle  Armande 
joined   Madame   du   Bousquier  as  they  were  leaving 


362  An   Old  Maid. 

Saint-Leonard's,  where  tbey  bad  gone  to  bear  a  re- 
quiem said  for  him.  The  generous  demoiselle  thought 
that  on  this  occasion  she  owed  her  sympathy  to  the 
niece  in  trouble.  They  walked  together,  talking  of 
the  dear  deceased,  until  they  reached  the  forbidden 
bouse,  into  which  Mademoiselle  Armande  enticed 
Madame  du  Bousquier  by  the  charm  of  her  manner 
and  conversation.  The  poor  desolate  woman  was  glad 
to  talk  of  her  uncle  with  one  whom  be  truly  loved. 
Moreover,  she  wanted  to  receive  the  condolences  of 
the  old  marquis,  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  nearly 
three  years.  It  was  half-past  one  o'clock,  and  she 
found  at  the  hotel  d'Esgrignon  the  Chevalier  de 
Valois,  who  bad  come  to  dinner.  As  be  bowed  to  her, 
be  took  her  by  the  bands. 

"Well,  dear,  virtuous,  and  beloved  lady,"  he  said, 
in  a  tone  of  emotion,  "we  have  lost  our  sainted  friend; 
we  share  your  grief.  Yes,  your  loss  is  as  keenly  felt 
here  as  in  your  own  home, — more  so,"  he  added, 
alluding  to  du  Bousquier. 

After  a  few  more  words  of  funeral  oration,  in  which 
all  present  spoke  from  the  heart,  the  chevalier  took 
Madame  du  Bousquier' s  arm,  and,  gallantly  placing 
it  within  his  own,  pressed  it  adoringly  as  be  led  her 
to  the  recess  of  a  window. 

"Are  you  happy?  "  be  said  in  a  fatherly  voice. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  dropping  her  eyes. 

Hearing  that  "Yes,"  Madame  de  Troisville,  the 
daughter  of  the  Princess  Scherbellof,  and  the  old 
Marquise  de  Casteran  came  up  and  joined  the  cheva- 
lier, together  with  Mademoiselle  Armande.  They  all 
went  to  walk  in  the  garden  until  dinner  was  served, 


An   Old  Maid.  363 

without  any  perception  on  the  part  of  Madame  du 
Bousquier  that  a  little  conspiracy  was  afoot.  "We 
have  her!  now  let  us  find  out  the  secret  of  the  case," 
were  the  words  written  in  the  eyes  of  all  present. 

"To  make  your  happiness  complete,"  said  Made- 
moiselle Armande,  "you  ought  to  have  children, — a 
fine  lad  like  my  nephew  —  " 

Tears  seemed  to  start  in  Madame  du  Bousquier's 
eyes. 

"I  have  heard  it  said  that  you  were  the  one  to  blame 
in  the  matter,  and  that  you  feared  the  dangers  of  a 
pregnancy,"  said  the  chevalier. 

"I!"  she  said  artlessly.  "I  would  buy  a  child 
with  a  hundred  years  of  purgatory  if  I  could." 

On  the  question  thus  started  a  discussion  arose, 
conducted  by  Madame  de  Troisville  and  the  old  Mar- 
quise de  Casteran  with  such  delicacy  and  adroitness 
that  the  poor  victim  revealed,  without  being  aware  of 
it,  the  secrets  of  her  home.  Mademoiselle  Armande 
had  taken  the  chevalier's  arm,  and  walked  away  so  as 
to  leave  the  three  women  free  to  discuss  wedlock. 
Madame  du  Bousquier  was  then  enlightened  on  the 
various  deceptions  of  her  marriage;  and  as  she  was 
still  the  same  simpleton  she  had  always  been,  she 
amused  her  advisers  by  delightful  naivetes. 

Although  at  first  the  deceptive  marriage  of  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  made  a  laugh  throughout  the  town, 
which  was  soon  initiated  into  the  story  of  the  case, 
before  long  Madame  du  Bousquier  won  the  esteem  and 
sympathy  of  all  the  women.  The  fact  that  Made- 
moiselle Cormon  had  flung  herself  headlong  into  mar- 
riage   without    succeeding    in   being    married,    made 


364  An   Old  Maid. 

everybody  laugh  at  her;  but  when  they  learned  the 
exceptional  position  in  which  the  sternness  of  her 
religious  principles  placed  her,  all  the  world  admired 
her.  "That  poor  Madame  du  Bousquier  "  took  the 
place  of  "  That  good  Mademoiselle  Cormon." 

Thus  the  chevalier  contrived  to  render  du  Bousquier 
both  ridiculous  and  odious  for  a  time;  but  ridicule 
ends  by  weakening ;  when  all  had  said  their  say  about 
him,  the  gossip  died  out.  Besides,  at  fifty-seven  years 
of  age  the  dumb  republican  seemed  to  many  people  to 
have  a  right  to  retire.  This  affair,  however,  envenomed 
the  hatred  which  du  Bousquier  already  bore  to  the  house 
of  Esgrignon  to  such  a  degree  that  it  made  him  pitiless 
when  the  day  of  vengeance  came.  [See  "The  Gallery 
of  Antiquities."]  Madame  du  Bousquier  received 
orders  never  again  to  put  her  foot  into  that  house. 
By  way  of  reprisals  upon  the  chevalier  for  the  trick 
thus  played  him,  du  Bousquier,  who  had  just  created 
the  journal  called  the  "Courrier  de  l'Orne,"  caused 
the  following  notice  to  be  inserted  in  it:  — 

"  Bonds  to  the  amount  of  one  thousand  francs  a  year  will 
be  paid  to  any  person  who  can  prove  the  existence  of  one 
Monsieur  de  Pombreton  before,  during,  or  after  the  Emi- 
gration." 

Although  her  marriage  was  essentially  negative, 
Madame  du  Bousquier  saw  some  advantages  in  it: 
was  it  not  better  to  interest  herself  in  the  most  remark- 
able man  in  the  town  than  to  live  alone  ?  Du  Bous- 
quier was  preferable  to  a  dog,  or  cat,  or  those  canaries 
that  spinsters  adore.  He  showed  for  his  wife  a  senti- 
ment more  real  and  less  selfish  than  that  which  is  felt 


An   Old  Maid.  365 

by  servants,  confessors,  and  hopeful  heirs.  Later  in 
life  she  came  to  consider  her  husband  as  the  instru- 
ment of  divine  wrath;  for  she  then  saw  innumerable 
sins  in  her  former  desires  for  marriage;  she  regarded 
herself  as  justly  punished  for  the  sorrow  she  had 
brought  on  Madame  Granson,  and  for  the  hastened 
death  of  her  uncle.  Obedient  to  that  religion  which 
commands  us  to  kiss  the  rod  with  which  the  pun- 
ishment is  inflicted,  she  praised  her  husband,  and 
publicly  approved  him.  But  in  the  confessional,  or 
at  night,  when  praying,  she  wept  often,  imploring 
God's  forgiveness  for  the  apostasy  of  the  man  who 
thought  the  contrary  of  what  he  professed,  and  who 
desired  the  destruction  of  the  aristocracy  and  the 
Church,  —  the  two  religions  of  the  house  of  Cormon. 

With  all  her  feelings  bruised  and  immolated  within 
her,  compelled  by  duty  to  make  her  husband  happy, 
attached  to  him  by  a  certain  indefinable  affection,  born, 
perhaps,  of  habit,  her  life  became  one  perpetual  con- 
tradiction. She  had  married  a  man  whose  conduct 
and  opinions  she  hated,  but  whom  she  was  bound  to 
care  for  with  dutiful  tenderness.  Often  she  walked 
with  the  angels  when  du  Bousquier  ate  her  preserves 
or  thought  the  dinner  good.  She  watched  to  see  that 
his  slightest  wish  was  satisfied.  If  he  tore  off  the 
cover  of  his  newspaper  and  left  it  on  a  table,  instead 
of  throwing  it  away,  she  would  say,  — 

"Rene,  leave  that  where  it  is;  monsieur  did  not 
place  it  there  without  intention." 

If  du  Bousquier  had  a  journey  to  take,  she  was  anx- 
ious about  his  trunk,  his  linen;  she  took  the  most 
minute  precautions  for  his  material  benefit.    If  he  went 


366  An   Old  Maid. 

to  Prebaudet,  she  consulted  the  barometer  the  evening 
before  to  know  if  the  weather  would  be  fine.  She 
watched  for  his  will  in  his  eyes,  like  a  dog  which 
hears  and  sees  its  master  while  sleeping.  When  the 
stout  du  Bousquier,  touched  by  this  scrupulous  love, 
would  take  her  round  the  waist  and  kiss  her  forehead, 
saying,  "What  a  good  woman  you  are!"  tears  of 
pleasure  would  come  into  the  eyes  of  the  poor  creature. 
It  is  probable  that  du  Bousquier  felt  himself  obliged  to 
make  certain  concessions  which  obtained  for  him  the 
respect  of  Rose-Marie- Victoire ;  for  Catholic  virtue 
does  not  require  a  dissimulation  as  complete  as  that  of 
Madame  du  Bousquier.  Often  the  good  saint  sat 
mutely  by  and  listened  to  the  hatred  of  men  who  con- 
cealed themsehTes  under  the  cloak  of  constitutional 
royalists.  She  shuddered  as  she  foresaw  the  ruin  of 
the  Church.  Occasionally  she  risked  a  stupid  word, 
an  observation  which  du  Bousquier  cut  short  with  a 
glance. 

The  worries  of  such  an  existence  ended  by  stupefy- 
ing Madame  du  Bousquier,  who  found  it  easier  and, 
also  more  dignified  to  concentrate  her  intelligence  on 
her  own  thoughts  and  resign  herself  to  lead  a  life  that 
was  purely  animal.  She  then  adopted  the  submission 
of  a  slave,  and  regarded  it  as  a  meritorious  deed  to 
accept  the  degradation  in  which  her  husband  placed 
her.  The  fulfilment  of  his  will  never  once  caused  her 
to  murmur.  The  timid  sheep  went  henceforth  in  the 
way  the  shepherd  led  her;  she  gave  herself  up  to  the 
severest  religious  practices,  and  thought  uo  more  of 
Satan  and  his  works  and  vanities.  Thus  she  pre- 
sented to  the  eyes  of  the  world  a  union  of  all  Chris- 


An   Old  Maid.  367 

tian  virtues ;  and  clu  Bousquier  was  certainly  one  of 
the  luckiest  men  in  the  kingdom  of  France  and  of 
Navarre. 

"She  will  be  a  simpleton  to  her  last  breath,"  said 
the  former  collector,  who,  however,  dined  with  her 
twice  a  week. 

This  history  would  be  strangely  incomplete  if  no 
mention  were  made  of  the  coincidence  of  the  Chevalier 
de  Valois'  death  occurring  at  the  same  time  as  that  of 
Suzanne's  mother.  The  chevalier  died  with  the  mon- 
archy, in  August,  1830.  He  had  joined  the  cortege  of 
Charles  X.  at  Nonancourt,  and  piously  escorted  it  to 
Cherbourg  with  the  Troisvilles,  Casterans,  d'Esgri- 
gnons,  Verneuils,  etc.  The  old  gentleman  had  taken 
with  him  fifty  thousand  francs,  —  the  sum  to  which  his 
savings  then  amounted.  He  offered  them  to  one  of 
the  faithful  friends  of  the  king  for  transmission  to 
his  master,  speaking  of  his  approaching  death,  and 
declaring  that  the  money  came  originally  from  the 
goodness  of  the  king,  and,  moreover,  that  the  property 
of  the  last  of  the  Valois  belonged  of  right  to  the  crown. 
It  is  not  known  whether  the  fervor  of  his  zeal  con- 
quered the  reluctance  of  the  Bourbon,  who  abandoned 
his  fine  kingdom  of  France  without  carrying  away  with 
him  a  farthing,  and  who  ought  to  have  been  touched 
by  the  devotion  of  the  chevalier.  It  is  certain,  how- 
ever, that  Cesarine,  the  residuary  legatee  of  the  old 
man,  received  from  his  estate  only  six  hundred  francs 
a  year.  The  chevalier  returned  to  Alen^on,  cruelly 
weakened  by  grief  and  by  fatigue ;  he  died  on  the  very 
day  when  Charles  X.  arrived  on  a  foreign  shore. 
Madame  du  Val-Noble  and  her  protector,  who  was 


368  An   Old  Maid. 

just  then  afraid  of  the  vengeance  of  the  liberal  party, 
were  glad  of  a  pretext  to  remain  incognito  in  the  vil- 
lage where  Suzanne's  mother  died.  At  the  sale  of  the 
chevalier's  effects,  which  took  place  at  that  time, 
Suzanne,  anxious  to  obtain  a  souvenir  of  her  first  and 
last  friend,  pushed  up  the  price  of  the  famous  snuff- 
box, which  was  finally  knocked  down  to  her  for 
a  thousand  francs.  The  portrait  of  the  Princess 
Goritza  was  alone  worth  that  sum.  Two  years  later, 
a  young  dandy,  who  was  making  a  collection  of  the 
fine  snuff-boxes  of  the  last  century,  obtained  from 
Madame  du  Val -Noble  the  chevalier's  treasure.  The 
charming  confidant  of  many  a  love  and  the  pleasure 
of  an  old  age  is  now  on  exhibition  in  a  species  of  pri- 
vate museum.  If  the  dead  could  know  what  happens 
after  them,  the  chevalier's  head  would  surely  blush 
upon  its  left  cheek. 

If  this  history  has  no  other  effect  than  to  inspire  the 
possessors  of  precious  relics  with  holy  fear,  and  induce 
them  to  make  codicils  to  secure  these  touching  sou- 
venirs of  joys  that  are  no  more  by  bequeathing  them  to 
loving  hands,  it  will  have  done  an  immense  service  to 
the  chivalrous  and  romantic  portion  of  the  community; 
but  it  does,  in  truth,  contain  a  far  higher  moral.  Does 
it  not  show  the  necessity  for  a  new  species  of  edu- 
cation? Does  it  not  invoke,  from  the  enlightened 
solicitude  of  the  ministers  of  Public  Instruction,  the 
creation  of  chairs  of  anthropology,  —  a  science  in  which 
Germany  outstrips  us?  Modern  myths  are  even  less 
understood  than  ancient  ones,  harried  as  we  are  with 
myths.  Myths  are  pressing  us  from  every  point ;  they 
serve  all  theories,  they  explain  all  questions.     They 


An   Old  Maid.  369 

are,  according  to  human  ideas,  the  torches  of  history; 
they  would  save  empires  from  revolution  if  only  the 
professors  of  history  would  force  the  explanations 
they  give  into  the  mind  of  the  provincial  masses.  If 
Mademoiselle  Cormon  had  been  a  reader  or  a  student, 
and  if  there  had  existed  in  the  department  of  the  Orne 
a  professor  of  anthropology,  or  even  had  she  read 
Ariosto,  the  frightful  disasters  of  her  conjugal  life 
would  never  have  occurred.  She  would  probably  have 
known  why  the  Italian  poet  makes  Angelica  prefer 
Medoro,  who  was  a  blond  Chevalier  de  Valois,  to 
Orlando,  whose  mare  was  dead,  and  who  knew  no 
better  than  to  fly  into  a  passion.  Is  not  Medoro  the 
mythic  form  for  all  courtiers  of  feminine  royalty,  and 
Orlando  the  myth  of  disorderly,  furious,  and  impotent 
revolutions,  which  destroy  but  cannot  produce?  We 
publish,  but  without  assuming  any  responsibility  for 
it,  this  opinion  of  a  pupil  of  Monsieur  Ballanche. 

No  information  has  reached  us  as  to  the  fate  of  the 
negroes'  heads  in  diamonds.  You  may  see  Madame 
du  Val-Noble  every  evening  at  the  Opera.  Thanks  to 
the  education  given  her  by  the  Chevalier  de  Valois,  she 
has  almost  the  air  of  a  well-bred  woman. 

Madame  du  Bousquier  still  lives;  is  not  that  as 
much  as  to  say  she  still  suffers?  After  reaching  the 
age  of  sixty  —  the  period  at  which  women  allow  them- 
selves to  make  confessions  —  she  said  confidentially 
to  Madame  du  Coudrai,  that  she  had  never  been  able 
to  endure  the  idea  of  dying  an  old  maid. 

THE     END. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


25al$ac  in  <englt£f). 


SVlEMOiRS  OF  TWO  YOUNG  MARRIED  WOMEN. 

By  Honore  de  Balzac. 

Translated  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.     12 mo. 
Half  Russia.     Price,  $1.50. 


"  There  are,"  says  Henry  James  in  one  of  his  essays,  "two  writers  In 
Balzac, — the  spontaneous  one  and  the  reflective  one,  the  former  of 
which  is  much  the  more  delightful,  while  the  latter  is  the  more  extraordi- 
nary." It  is  the  reflective  Balzac,  the  Balzac  with  a  theory,  whom  we 
get  in  the  "  Deux  Jeunes  Mariees,"  now  translated  by  Miss  Wormeley 
under  the  title  of  "Memoirs  of  Two  Young  Married  Women."  The 
theory  of  Balzac  is  that  the  marriage  of  convenience,  properly  regarded, 
is  far  preferable  to  the  marriage  simply  from  love,  and  he  undertakes  to 
prove  this  proposition  by  contrasting  the  careers  of  two  young  girls  who 
have  been  fellow-students  at  a  convent.  One  of  them,  the  ardent  and 
passionate  Louise  de  Chaulieu,  has  an  intrigue  with  a  Spanish  refugee, 
finally  marries  him,  kills  him,  as  she  herself  confesses,  by  her  perpetual 
jealousy  and  exaction,  mourns  his  loss  bitterly,  then  marries  a  golden- 
haired  youth,  lives  with  him  in  a  dream  of  ecstasy  for  a  year  or  so,  and 
this  time  kills  herself  through  jealousy  wrongfully  inspired.  As  for  het 
friend,  Renee  de  Maucombe,  she  dutifully  makes  a  marriage  to  please  her 
parents,  calculates  coolly  beforehand  how  many  children  she  will  have  and 
how  they  shall  be  trained ;  insists,  however,  that  the  marriage  shall  be 
merely  a  civil  contract  till  she  and  her  husband  find  that  their  hearts  are 
indeed  one ;  and  sees  all  her  brightest  visions  realized,  —  her  Louis  an 
ambitious  man  for  her  sake  and  her  children  truly  adorable  creatures. 
The  story,  which  is  told  in  the  form  of  letters,  fairly  scintillates  with 
brilliant  sayings,  and  is  filled  with  eloquent  discourses  concerning  the 
nature  of  love,  conjugal  and  otherwise.  Louise  and  Renee  are  both 
extremely  sophisticated  young  women,  even  in  their  teens  ;  and  those 
who  expect  to  find  in  their  letters  the  demure  innocence  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  type  will  be  somewhat  astonished.  The  translation,  under  the 
circumstances,  was  rather  a  daring  attempt,  but  it  has  been  most  felicit- 
ously done.  —  The  Beacon. 


Sold  bv  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of 
price  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS.  Boston.  Mass. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers  Publications. 

m  ' —  *-iV* 

2M?ac  in  €ngli£f)* 

THE  VILLAGE  RECTOR. 

By  Honore  de  Balzac. 

Translated  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.     i2mo. 
Half  Russia.     Price,  $1.50. 


Once  more  that  wonderful  acquaintance  which  Balzac  had  with  all  callings 
appears  manifest  in  this  work.  Would  you  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  engineer's 
occupation  in  France?  Balzac  presents  it  in  the  whole  system,  with  its  aspects, 
disadvantages,  and  the  excellence  of  the  work  accomplished.  We  write  to-day 
of  irrigation  and  of  arboriculture  as  if  they  were  novelties  ;  yet  in  the  waste  lands 
of  Montagnac,  Balzac  found  these  topics ;  and  what  he  wrote  is  the  clearest 
exposition  of  the  subjects. 

But,  above  all,  in  "  The  Village  Rector  "  is  found  the  most  potent  of  religious 
ideas,  —  the  one  that  God  grants  pardon-  to  sinners.  Balzac  had  studied  and 
appreciated  the  intensely  human  side  of  Catholicism  and  its  adaptiveness  to  the 
wants  of  mankind.  It  is  religion,  with  Balzac,  "  that  opens  to  us  an  inexhaustible 
treasure  of  indulgence."     It  is  true  repentance  that  saves. 

The  drama  which  is  unrolled  in  "The  Village  Rector"  is  a  terrible  one,  and 
perhaps  repugnant  to  our  sensitive  minds.  The  selection  of  such  a  plot,  pitiless 
as  it  is,  Balzac  made  so  as  to  present  the  darkest  side  of  human  nature,  and  to 
show  how,  through  God's  pity,  a  soul  might  be  saved.  The  instrument  of  mercy 
is  the  Rector  Bonnet,  and  in  the  chapter  entitled  "The  Rector  at  Work"  he 
shows  how  religion  "  extends  a  man's  life  beyond  the  world."  It  is  not  sufficient 
to  weep  and  moan.  "That  is  but  the  beginning;  the  end  is  action."  The 
rector  urges  the  woman  whose  sins  are  great  to  devote  what  remains  of  her  life 
to  work  for  the  benefit  of  her  brothers  and  sisters,  and  so  she  sets  about  reclaim' 
ing  the  waste  lands  which  surround  her  chateau.  With  a  talent  of  a  superlative 
order,  which  gives  grace  to  Veronique,  she  is  like  the  Madonna  of  some  old  panel 
of  Van  Eyck's.  Doing  penance,  she  wears  close  to  her  tender  skin  a  haircloth 
vestment.  For  love  of  her,  a  man  has  committed  murder  and  died  and  kept  his 
secret.  In  her  youth,  Veronique's  face  had  been  pitted,  but  her  saintly  life  had 
obliterated  that  spotted  mantle  of  smallpox.  Tears  had  washed  out  every  blemish. 
If  through  true  repentance  a  soul  was  ever  saved,  it  was  Veronique's.  This 
work,  too,  has  afforded  consolation  to  many  miserable  sinners,  and  showed  them 
the  way  to  grace. 

The  present  translation  is  to  be  cited  for  its  wonderful  accuracy  and  its  literary 
distinction.  We  can  hardly  think  of  a  more  difficult  task  than  the  Englishing  of 
Balzac,  and  a  general  reading  public  should  be  grateful  for  the  admirable  manner 
in  which  Miss  Wormeley  has  performed  her  task.  — New  York  Times. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt 
of  price  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS.   Boston.  Mass. 


Messrs.  Roberts  BrotJiers'  Publications. 


BALZAC    IN    ENGLISH. 


THE  BROTHERHOOD  OF  CONSOLATION. 

(UENVERS  DE   L'HISIOIRE   CONJEMPORAINE.) 

By   HONORE    DE   BALZAC. 

I.  Madame  de  la  Chanterie.  2.  The  Initiate.  Translated  by 
Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley.  i2mo.  Half  Russia.  Price, 
$1.50. 

There  is  no  book  of  Balzac  which  is  informed  by  a  loftier  spirit  than 
"  L'Envers  de  l'Histoire  Contemporaine,"  which  has  just  been  added  by  Miss 
Wormeley  to  her  admirable  series  of  translations  under  the  title,  "  The  Brother- 
hood of  Consolation."  The  title  which  is  given  to  the  translation  is,  to  our 
thinking,  a  happier  one  than  that  which  the  work  bears  in  the  original,  since,  after 
all,  the  political  and  historical  portions  of  the  hook  are  only  the  background  of  the 
other  and  more  absorbing  theme,  —  the  development  of  the  brotherhood  over 
which  Madame  de  la  Chanterie  presided.  It  is  true  that  there  is  about  it  all 
something  theatrical,  sometning  which  shows  the  French  taste  for  making  godli- 
ness itself  histrionically  effective,  that  quality  of  mind  which  would  lead  a  Parisian 
to  criticise  the  coming  of  the  judgment  angels  if  their  entrance  were  not  happily 
arranged  and  properly  executed  ;  but  in  spite  of  this  there  is  an  elevation  such  as 
it  is  rare  to  meet  with  in  literature,  and  especially  in  the  literature  of  Balzac's  age 
and  land.  The  story  is  admirably  told,  and  the  figure  of  the  Baron  Bourlac  is 
really  noble  in  its  martyrdom  of  self  denial  and  heroic  patience.  The  picture  of 
the  Jewish  doctor  is  a  most  characteristic  piece  of  work,  and  shows  Balzac's 
intimate  touch  in  every  line.  Balzac  was  always  attracted  by  the  mystical  side 
of  the  physical  nature  ;  and  it  might  almost  be  said  that  everything  that  savored 
of  mystery,  even  though  it  ran  obviously  into  quackery,  had  a  strong  attraction 
for  him.  He  pictures  Halpersohn  with  a  few  strokes,  but  his  picture  of  him  has 
a  striking  vitality  and  reality.  The  volume  is  a  valuable  and  attractive  addition  to 
the  series  to  which  it  belongs;  and  the  series  comes  as  near  to  fulfilling  the  ideal 
of  what  translations  should  be  as  is  often  granted  to  earthly  things. — Boston 
Courier. 

The  book,  which  is  one  of  rare  charm,  is  one  of  the  most  refined,  while  at  the 
same  time  tragic,  of  all  his  works.  — Public  Opinion. 

His  present  work  is  a  fiction  beautiful  in  its  conception,  just  one  of  those 
practical  ideals  which  Balzac  nourished  and  believed  in.  There  never  was  greater 
homage  than  he  pays  to  the  book  of  books,  "  The  Imitation  of  Jesus  Christ." 
Miss  Wormeley  has  here  accomplished  her  work  just  as  cleverly  as  in  her  other 
volumes  of  Balzac. — N.  Y.  Times. 


Sold  by   all    booksellers.      Mailed,    post-paid,    by    the 
Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,   Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


BALZAC    IN    ENGLISH. 


A  Great  Mm  of  the  Provinces  in  Paris. 

By   HONORE    DE    BALZAC. 

Being  the  second  part  of  "  Lost  Illusions."     Translated  by  Kath- 
arine Prescott  Wormeley.     i2mo.     Half  Russia.     Price,  $1.50. 

We  are  beginning  to  look  forward  to  the  new  translations  of  Balzac  by  Katha- 
rine Wormeley  almost  as  eagerly  as  to  the  new  works  of  the  best  contemporary 
writers.  But,  unlike  the  writings  of  most  novelists,  Balzac's  novels  cannot  be 
judged  separately.  They  belong  together,  and  it  is  impossible  to  understand  the 
breadth  and  depth  of  the  great  writer's  insight  into  human  life  by  reading  any 
one  volume  of  this  remarkable  series.  For  instance,  we  rise  from  the  reading  of 
this  last  volume  feeling  as  if  there  was  nothing  high  or  noble  or  pure  in  life.  But 
what  would  be  more  untrue  than  to  fancy  that  Balzac  was  unable  to  appreciate 
the  true  and  the  good  and  the  beautiful  !  Compare  "  The  Lily  of  the  Valley  " 
or  "Seraphita"  or  "Louis  Lambert"  with  "The  Duchesse  of  Langeais"  and 
"  Cousin  Bette,"  and  then  perhaps  the  reader  will  be  able  to  criticise  Balzac  with 
some  sort  of  justice.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

Balzac  paints  the  terrible  verities  of  life  with  an  inexorable  hand.  The  siren 
charms,  the  music  and  lights,  the  feast  and  the  dance,  are  presented  in  voluptu- 
ous colors —  but  read  to  the  end  of  the  book!  There  are  depicted  with  equal 
truthfulness  the  deplorable  consequences  of  weakness  and  crime.  Some  have 
read  Balzac's  "Cousin  Bette"  and  have  pronounced  him  immoral;  but  when 
the  last  chapter  of  any  of  his  novels  is  read,  the  purpose  of  the  whole  is  clear,  and 
immorality  cannot  be  alleged.  Balzac  presents  life.  His  novels  are  as  truthful 
as  they  are  terrible.  —  Springfield  Union. 

Admirers  of  Balzac  will  doubtless  enjoy  the  mingled  sarcasm  and  keen  analy- 
sis of  human  nature  displayed  in  the  present  volume,  brought  out  with  even  more 
than  the  usual  amount  of  the  skill  and  energy  characteristic  of  the  author.  — 
Pittsburgh  Post. 

The  art  of  Balzac,  the  wonderful  power  of  his  contrast,  the  depth  of  his 
knowledge  of  life  and  men  and  things,  this  tremendous  story  illustrates.  How 
admirably  the  rise  of  the  poet  is  traced  ;  the  crescendo  is  perfect  in  gradation,  yet 
as  inexorable  as  fate!  As  for  the  fall,  the  effect  is  more  depressing  than  a 
personal  catastrophe.  This  is  a  book  to  read  over  and  over,  an  epic  of  life  in 
prose,  more  tremendous  than  the  blank  verse  of  "Paradise  Lost"  or  the 
"Divine  Comedy.''  Miss  Wormeley  and  the  publishers  deserve  not  congratula- 
tions alone,  but  thanks  for  adding  this  book  and  its  predecessor,  "  Lost  Illusions," 
to  the  literature  of  English.  —  San  Francisco  Wave. 


Sold   by    all    booksellers.      Mailed,   post-paid,    by    the 
Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Boston. 


Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers'  Publications. 


BALZAC    IN   ENGLISH. 


Lost  Illusions :  Tie  Two  Poets,  and  Eve  and  David. 

By   HONORE   DE   BALZAC. 

Being  the  twenty-third  volume  of  Miss  Wormeley's  translation  of 
Balzac's  novels.     i2mo.     Half  Russia.     Price,  $1.50. 

For  her  latest  translation  of  the  Balzac  fiction  cycle,  Miss  Wormeley  gives  us 
the  first  and  third  parts  of  "Illusion  Perdue,"  under  the  caption  of  "Lost 
Illusions,"  namely,  "The  Two  Poets  "  and  "  Eve  and  David."  This  arrange- 
ment is  no  doubt  a  good  one,  for  the  readers  are  thus  enabled  to  follow  the  consecu- 
tive fortunes  of  the  Angouleme  folk,  while  the  adventures  of  Eve's  poet-brother, 
Lucien,  which  occur  in  Paris  and  make  a  tale  by  themselves,  are  thus  left  for  a 
separate  publication.  The  novel,  as  we  have  it,  then,  belongs  to  the  category  of 
those  scenes  from  provincial  life  which  Balzac  found  so  stimulating  to  his  genius. 
This  story,  certainly,  in  some  respects  takes  high  rank  among  them.  The 
character-drawing  is  fine:  Lucien,  the  ambitious,  handsome,  weak-willed,  selfish, 
and  easily-sinning  young  bourgeois,  is  contrasted  with  David,  —  a  touching  picture 
of  the  struggling  inventor,  born  of  the  people  and  sublimely  one-purposed  and 
pure  in  his  life.  Eve,  the  type  of  a  faithful  large-brained  and  larger-hearted  wife, 
who  supports  her  husband  through  all  his  hardships  with  unfaltering  courage  and 
kindness,  is  another  noble  creation.  David  inherits  a  poorish  printing  business 
from  his  skin-flint  of  a  father,  neglects  it  while  devoting  all  his  time  and  energy  to 
his  discovery  of  an  improved  method  of  making  paper ;  and  through  the  evil, 
machinations  of  the  rival  printing  firm  of  the  Cointets,  as  well  as  the  debts  foisted 
on  him  by  Lucien  in  Paris,  he  is  brought  into  money  difficulties  and  even  into 
prison.  But  his  invention,  although  sold  at  a  sacrifice  to  the  cunning  Cointets, 
gets  him  out  of  the  hole  at  last,  and  he  and  his  good  wife  retire  on  a  comfortable 
competency,  which  is  augmented  at  the  death  of  his  father  into  a  good-sized 
fortune.  The  seamy  side  of  law  in  the  provinces  is  shown  up  in  Balzac's  keen, 
inimitable  way  in  the  description  of  the  winding  of  the  coils  around  the  unsuspect- 
ing David  and  the  depiction  of  such  men  as  the  brothers  Cointets  and  the  shrewd 
little  petifogging  rascal,  Petit  Claud.  The  pictures  of  Angouleme  aristocratic 
circles,  too,  with  Lucien  as  high  priest,  are  vivacious,  and  show  the  novelist's 
wonderful  observation  in  all  ranks  of  life.  The  bit  of  wild  romance  by  which 
Lucien  becomes  the  secretary  of  a  Spanish  grandee  lends  a  fairy-tale  flavor  to  t.ie 
main  episodes.  Balzac,  in  whom  is  united  the  most  lynx-eyed  realism  and  the 
most  extravagant  romanticism,  is  ever  and  always  one  of  the  great  masters  in 
fiction  of  our  century. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of 
the  price  by  the  Publishers, 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,   Boston. 


Balzac  in  English. 


PIERRETTE 


AND 


The  Vicar    ok   Tours. 

BY   HONORE   DE   BALZAC. 
Translated  by  Katharine  Prescott  Wormeley. 


In  Pierrette,  which  Miss  Wormeley  has  added  to  her  series  of  felicitous 
translations  from  the  French  master-fictionists,  Balzac  has  made  within 
brief  compass  a  marvellously  sympathetic  study  of  the  martyrdom  of  a 
young  girl.  Pierrette,  a  flower  of  Brittany,  beautiful,  pale,  and  fair  and 
sweet,  is  taken  as  an  undesired  charge  by  sordid-minded  cousins  in  Pro- 
vins,  and  like  an  exotic  transplanted  into  a  harsh  and  sour  soil  she  withers 
and  fades  under  the  cruel  conditions  of  her  new  environment.  Incident 
tally  Balzac  depicts  in  vivid  colors  the  struggles  of  two  shop-keepers  —  a 
brother  and  sister,  who  have  amassed  a  little  fortune  in  Paris  —  to  gain  a 
foothold  among  the  bourgeoisie  of  their  native  town.  These  two  become 
the  prey  of  conspirators  for  political  advancement,  and  the  rivalries  thus 
engendered  shake  the  small  provincial  society  to  its  centre.  Put  the 
charm  of  the  tale  is  in  the  portrayal  of  the  character  of  Pierretle,  who 
understands  only  how  to  love,  and  who  cannot  live  in  an  atmosphere  of 
suspicion  and  ill-treatment.  The  story  is  of  course  sad,  but  its  fidelity  to 
life  and  the  pathos  of  it  are  elements  of  unfailing  interest.  Balzac  brings 
a  score  or  more  of  people  upon  the  stage,  shows  each  one  as  he  or  she 
really  is  both  in  outward  appearance  and  inward  nature,  and  then  allows 
motives  and  circumstances  to  work  out  an  inevitable  result.  To  watch 
this  process  is  like  being  present  at  some  wonderful  chemical  experiment 
where  the  ingredients  are  mixed  with  a  deft  and  careful  hand,  and  combine 
to  produce  effects  of  astonishing  significance.  The  social  genesis  of  the 
old  maid  in  her  most  abhorrent  form  occupies  much  of  Balzac's  attention 
in  Pierrette,  and  this  theme  also  has  a  place  in  the  story  of  The  Vicar  oj 
Tours,  bound  up  in  this  same  volume.  The  vicar  is  a  simple-minded 
priest  who  is  happy  enough  till  he  takes  up  his  quarters  with  an  old  maid 
landlady,  who  pesters  and  annoys  him  in  many  ways,  and  finally  sends  him 
forth  despoiled  of  his  worldly  goods  and  a  laughing-stock  for  the  country- 
side. There  is  a  great  deal  of  humor  in  the  tale,  but  one  must  confess 
that  the  humor  is  of  a  rather  heavy  sort,  it  being  weighed  down  by  a  domi- 
nant satirical  purpose.  —  The  Beacon. 

One  handsome  i2mo  volume,  uniform  with  "  Pere  Goriot," 
"  The  Duchesse  de  Langeais,"  "  Cesar  Birotteau,"  "  Eugenie 
Grandet,"  "  Cousin  Pons,"  "  The  Country  Doctor,"  "  The  Twa 
Brothers,"  and  "  The  Alkahest."  Half  morocco,  French  style 
Price,  $1.50. 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Publishers,  Boston. 


# 


RETURN  TO  the  circulation  desk  of  any 

University  of  California  Library 

or  to  the 

NORTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 
Bldg.  400,  Richmond  Field  Station 
University  of  California 
Richmond,  CA  94804-4698 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 
2-month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling 

(415)642-6753 
1-year  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books 

to  NRLF 
Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days 

prior  to  due  date 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


APR  2  6  1991 


fatMrned  c 


MAY  1  6  1930 


Santa  Cruz  -litre* 


